


oyasumi [hxh]

by ceruleanmoons



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, F/M, Mentor/Protégé, Minor Character Death, Multi, Please Don't Kill Me, Sharing a Bed, Slight Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Survivor Guilt, death everywhere lol, excessive hand holding, kurapika gets extreme character development, light fluff, no beta we die like men, no one is safe, ok maybe a little smut in later chapters lmao, smut? sir this is a mcdonald’s, the bisexual kurapika agenda, y/n is bad at feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleanmoons/pseuds/ceruleanmoons
Summary: “I love you," Kurapika says.(He has not spoken those words to a living being in such a long time.)She smiles at him, this dream-her, and it's a smile like her usual mischievous simper—before everything went to hell. And she steps closer (just like he wanted her to) and cups his face in her hands (just like he wanted her to) and says (just like he always, always wanted to hear her say):"I love you, too."
Relationships: Kurapika (Hunter X Hunter)/Reader
Comments: 42
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

You wake up with a jolt, quickly sitting up, drenched in cold sweat from the memories your brain had presented to you as dreams the night prior. Your shaking hands grasp at the raggedy, mildew-stained blanket covering your form. Taking deep huffs of air and frantically looking around, you finally realize where you are. A small hovel of a home in Meteor City. It was something you were dutifully growing accustomed to; And while not drastically better than what you had seen, it provided a smidge more comfort than the cold beds of your old house.

The stale air pierced your nose like a knife whilst you hyperventilated. The faint scent of blood and dust still lingers, palpable no matter where you looked as long as you were in this place. You had only moved here two weeks following the murder of a woman in her 50s. No matter what you do, the scent feels as if it's crawled beneath your skin and stained you. It remains on your mind like paint to a wall. 

Your breathing slowly calms as you look at your hands. 

Your fingers were noticeably thin. How long had it been since you had a full meal; without having to steal or beg? ‘Too long’ your mind supplies as you ball your fists. It was a mystery to you how you hadn't been driven mad in a town like Meteor City. You were beginning to grow weaker- And while not the most knowledgeable of children, you were aware of the crumbling hope nestled within your being. You refuse to fall to something so ridiculous. Fretting took grasp of your mind with a frozen hand.

How long had it been since you were taken care of?

How long had it been since you were able to be a child? 

A shuddering breath escapes your throat at the last thought. Having been.. abandoned at the age of seven had put a toll on you. You were only seven years old, for God’s sake. Your hand wobbled precariously through your mane with a quivering breath. It occasionally would halt in it's tracks after happening upon a knot or tangle. You tried to ignore this. 

You bring your knees up to your chest and rock yourself slowly. It was a comforting exercise, your body held close to you for something not dissimilar to protection, and allowing a shallow warmth beneath the surface. The only sound filling the room was the distinct “drip drop” of your leaking ceiling and the distant screams of those unfortunate enough to get themselves involved with shady people. 

You close your eyes and exhale through your nose. ‘It’s ok. You’ll be ok.’ 

The words were reassuring in a new way. Had your day started different, you would feel unanimously better, by now.

You shiver as a cold breeze brushes through you. Glancing to your right, you notice the shifty window structure in the room is wide open. Your eyes widen as you hastily rise from your position on the bed and shakily close it. You turn with a start to the corner of the room. Kneeling down, you rip the floorboard briskly. It's an action of both despair and desperation, and you barely avoid gaining splinters.

A ragged sob rips past your throat with the absence of 50 jenny and half a loaf of bread. Most everything you really have. Your survival necessities.

You start to hyperventilate once again. 

‘How could this happen? I was- I was so careful. Fuck, I’m never getting out of here now. I want to go home..! I want my mom!’

A flurry of terrified thoughts spin in your mind like a blizzard. 

Tears flow down your face as you realize that saving jenny will do you no good. It’ll just get stolen. Over and over and over again. No matter what you do, it’ll be all for not. What's the use in correcting your life style, when it'll simply be revoked by life?

‘I can’t stay in one place for too long.’ You thought to yourself as you frantically scratch at your head. ‘I cannot be too trusting. I can’t tell people where I live anymore.'

At least no harm came to you. You must admit, waking up at all had to be a gift in such troubling times, right?

_______________________

The sun beamed on you as you trekked down the heap of trash which you had settled for just the night prior. It reeked throughout the town, worse than the small thing you called a room. Your legs felt sore due to the odd sleeping arrangements. A sigh escaped your throat as you jumped off a particularly large soft mound.

‘Must be a mattress. I might be able to sleep on it if it’s still here by tonight.’ You thought to yourself as you smirked, fastidiously excited at the prospect of getting to sleep on something soft. 

Reaching into your small handbag, you pull out a rusty canteen of water. The refreshing liquid glides through your throat as relief flows through your veins. You loosen up your body and plop down on the bed-bug ridden mattress and gulp water down. You reach back into your bag and grab a small loaf of stolen bread. It was the slightest bit stale; But that was barely a problem.

Hastily shoving a section in your mouth, you feel a pair of eyes on you. The person wasn't exactly being careful about their staring, and had your hands been empty of anything, you likely would have noticed sooner. Looking towards your right, you see a small boy about the age of six. Slowly taking a bite, you motion him to come over. 

“Yuu humphry?” You ask with your mouth full as he cautiously walks towards you. Clumsily, a few crumbs fall into your hand.

“H-huh..?” He stutters softly when he’s about five feet away from you. You raise a straightened finger as you chew your bread and swallow. “I said, ‘you hungry?’” You beamed and the little boy's shiny eyes grew wide. They were a delightful brown, filled with wonder. His meek demeanor pulled at your heart.

“..Yeah. Could you- Can I have some?” The boy’s big eyes fluttered from your face to your bread. He denied the desperate tone that threatened to leak into his request.

“Of course!” You say as you tear off a large piece of bread and outstretch your arm to him.

The sunlight filtered through the child’s long, black hair and fell in streaks across his freckle ridden cheeks. His mouth was gaped like a fish out of water. The young boy slowly reached for the bread but his brown hand halted just short of grabbing the bread. He averted his large chocolate-brown eyes and asked, “You're not a creep are you..?”

Your eyes widened as a smirk grew on your face as you let out a hearty chuckle. 

“I like you, dude! Nah, it’s okay. You’re a cautious guy, aren’t you? That’s good. I wish I was like that when I was your age.” You brightly claim as you grasp his hand in yours. Your palms had barely made contact for a second before it sent a bolt of jubilation straight to the smile on your face.

The boy gasped as you placed both pieces of bread into his small hands. “Thank you... How old are you, ma’am?” His orbs flickered from the bread to your face in curiosity and awe.

You scratch your head, confused, “Ma’am? Well, that’s a first! I’m actually 10! So, no need to treat me like an adult!” 

The young boy’s shoulders immediately tensed, fear overtaking his senses. “O-Oh! I’m sorry, ma- I mean... Wait, I don’t believe I caught your name?” His shoulders were rigid, but drooped a little in disappointment.

“Ah. You can call me Y/N! What’s yours?” You said sweetly. Your very manners reminded him of sugared-honey. The bread smelled like heaven, but your smile made the moment that much sweeter. He had a good feeling about this.

“I call myself Arkot.”

“Well, Arkot. Dig in!” You encouraged. As soon as those words left your mouth, the bread was shoved into the child’s mouth with a delighted sigh.

_________________

Night came in the blink of an eye and the days blended in with each other. You had decided to keep an eye on Arkot, having been in his position just 4 years prior, and you’ve grown quite attached to the young boy. He even started to refer to you as his older sister.

”Nee-chan, can we go to the market today?” Arkot jumped up and down on the mildew stained, bare mattress, invoking a groan out of you from under the thin polyester blanket. He narrowly missed your form with every jostle.

”No.” You mumbled, your voice being muffled by the low-quality pillow your face was pressed against. It was unhygienic.

”But Y/N! You promised last night!” 

During the time you two spent together, Arkot grew to become a more open child; being loud and obnoxious. While occasionally too much to handle, other times; It simply served to make you grin.

“Arkot, It’s literally, like, 2am. Go to sleep.” 

“Uh.. Nee-chan. It’s mid-afternoon”

”What!?” You immediately shot off of the squishy platform and ran towards your hidden bag. “Why didn't you wake me-?!“ The fumbling of objects ceaselessly resounded from your corner. You turned back to Arkot for just a moment and he is privy to the panic on your expression.

“I tried, but you threw a shoe at me.” 

“Steal my blanket next time or something. Shit! There's going to be nothing fresh left in the market-“ You speak quickly as you frantically look for your left boot. Your fingers occasionally bump into miscellaneous objects in their haste.

”Sorry, Y/N...” The young boy uttered softly, suddenly feeling a bolt of guilt trickle through him. His voice was laced in it.

You recognized the meekness of his voice, having had to use it for the first 7 formative years of your life. You swiftly tie your bootlaces and stand to your full height. 

Patting Arkot’s head, you coo, “Don’t sweat it, Arky! It’s okay.”

He looked up at you with his wide, watery eyes and nodded his head, “ O-Okay, Nee-chan! Let’s go.”

The marketplace was the main hub for illegal activity in Meteor City. From drug deals to human trafficking. An unspoken rule of the lawless wasteland is to never go alone. But as dangerous as it was, it sure had character.

Bright colored scarves danced along the pillars holding up the makeshift ceilings of rustic, lucid colored bodegas with chipped paint. The stolen goods that were displayed were always so shiny and out of place in the red-ish brown colored ambience of the trash city. It were the treasures that made the place come to life, though the rest of the atmosphere around them were sure to raise the valuable appearance. It was an easy process for money-grubbers.

Gazing around you noticed a tall, slender woman with an aquiline nose and short blonde hair speaking into the ear of a young, handsome man with luminous black hair in front of a jewelry “shop". The two stuck out like sore-thumbs, dressed to the nines in fancy clothing. If they didn't attract thieves, they were certainly intimidating.

Elbowing Arkot with wide eyes, you whisper in his ear, “Rich people...” 

Arkot immediately glanced over at them and his mouth hung open. His chocolate brown eyes were darting between the two adults as they continued the conversation. You briefly imagined you and Arkot wearing matching suits. Had it not been for the sudden tremor in your limbs, you would have chuckled. Maybe because of the absurdity, maybe because the thought roused joy.

”Do you.. Do you want to talk to them?” He questioned dubiously. His eyes were owlish.

“What? Why would I ever do that? They look so... fancy.” Insecurity bubbled up in your chest as you glanced at the ground. You shuffled your feet akin to a penguin in summer. Turning to your right, you were met with the cracking windows of a busted store front. The reflection was accurate, of course, but lacked the sparkle you often tried to encompass. Oh. That was you, huh? 

Your eyes were hallow and sunken, with your skin taking on an unhealthy paleness. The rat's nest atop your head was greased to hell and back, an unruly (h/c) color that made you feel sick. Glancing down towards your clothes, you suddenly noticed how many holes and rips were gathering on the tattered fabric. It hung away from your body as if you were heat to plastic. Your skin felt as fi it were crawling.

‘Ah, I suppose it’s time for a wardrobe change..’ Your face flushes furiously in embarrassment at the fact that you leave you impromptu shelters in the same rags everyday.

And to top it all off, a large smudge of dust lay smeared across your cheek.

“Um, what’s them being fancy have to do with anything? Just ask them why they’re here! I’ll look for bread or something while y’all converse!” Arkot chuckles as he ushers you towards them and scurries off. Your curiosity far out-weighed the want to stick around. This was a change, after all, from the daily routine. You cautiously meandered towards the pair.

The blonde woman ceased all speech and looked down at you with a stern gaze gracing her face. Immediately after seeing your small form, her eyes soften with pity. She opened her mouth, about to say something, but the young man silenced her by putting a hand on her shoulder.

Kneeling down to make proper eye contact with you, he met your wide, seemingly innocent eyes. All that you could see through his were wells of ebony. He smiled softly, but fondly. Your heart spiked in adoration.

”Hello, little mouse. What might you be searching for?” The man asked swiftly as he placed a hand on your shoulder. Your skin felt like a roaring sun sat just beneath his palm. You could barely refrain from jumping up and down in anticipation.

”I- um... Pardon me for asking, but are you lost, sir? You two look awfully... rich to be in a place like this.” You mumbled, suddenly finding the ground much more interesting to glance at, rather than the stranger’s eyes. You began shuffling again.

A deep rumble of laughter bubbled in the man’s chest as he patted your arm rather roughly.

”Oh, child! You have no clue who we are, do you?” The black-haired male laughed as he gestured to himself and his beautiful friend. “You see, my friend and I grew up in this city. I had it rough; just as you do.” 

You eyes widened at that statement. People who... made it out of Meteor City? The thought didn’t register in your mind, it seeming so ridiculous and all. How did they become so rich? They surely couldn’t have had a steady education throughout their childhoods. This was completely hard to believe! Your mind flailed for a single reason to attach itself to. Nothing stuck.

”Y-you made it out of Meteor City? How?!” You asked a bit too enthusiastically. The blonde woman from before grew a warm smile and chuckled lightly at your comment. You barely examined her face in the jubilance of your new found aspiration.

”We all must find our own ways, little mouse. Perhaps you have heard of the Phantom Troupe? They’ve grown tremendously since their founding two years ago. And they originated from this very city. If they can escape, so can you.” The man said as he smiled boyishly. 

The... Phantom Troupe? You had heard of them from vendors talking amongst themselves. They stole expensive items, right? Had recently committed mass genocide? They seemed like powerful people, to say the least. Whether that was a good thing or not, was a flimsy concept to your underdeveloped brain. 

The young male stood from his position on the ground, and looked down at you. “What’s your name, dear?”

“Y/N.” You stuttered, as you rubbed your bare arm. “What is yours, sir?”

”Ah. You can call me Chrollo. My friend over there goes by Pakunoda.” His eyes glimmered with amusement, and a tinge of something unreadable.

”O-oh, wel-“ You began, finally gaining the confidence to search into both of their eyes.

“Y/N!!” You were immediately cut off by the frantic scream of your name. Swinging your head around, you were greeted with the sight of Arkot being chased by at least five grown men. They were large in stature and you had little doubt they'd wring your necks. You broke out into a cold perspiration and looked toward Arkot with concern. 

”We've got to go! Now!”


	2. Chapter 2

“Y/N!!” You were immediately cut off by the frantic scream of your name. Swinging your head around, you were greeted with the sight of Arkot being chased by at least five grown men. They were large in stature and you had little doubt they'd wring your necks. You broke out into a cold perspiration and looked toward Arkot with concern. 

”We've got to go! Now!”

_____________________________

“Huh?!” You choked out while Arkot’s small hand firmly gripped yours and yanked it forward.

”Um.. goodbye, Chrollo!” You breathed, already planning out your escape. You flew away from the scene, like a dart to a board, whilst dragging Arkot’s tripping feet behind you.

‘What did this idiot get himself into this time’ You thought to yourself as you glanced behind your shoulder. Ah, they were gaining on you.

Another handful of men brushed past Chrollo and his confidant, in a haste to capture the captivating young female and her little friend. 

"Paku... There’s something special about that girl.” The head of the Spider murmured to the woman standing behind him, his tone being devoid of emotion as he looked down at the dusty, polluted ground. His aura grew into a menacing nimbus, enveloping him and Pakunoda like a suffocatingly tight shroud.

“Ah... I figured you would say that. She seemed to have an incredibly strong aura; especially for a child her age.” The blonde woman said as the smile faded from her face. Having been exposed to his baleful ambiance over the past two years, she was able to withstand the perturbation it exuded. “What about her, Danchou?”

His minatory aura disappeared as quickly as it came as he turned around and beamed sweetly at his companion. Pulling out the satchel that he stole from the young girl, he slung it across his shoulder.

“Perhaps a Little Mouse deserves a home among our ranks?”

____________________

“-Hurry the fuck up, Arkot!” You hissed as the little boy fumbled to climb up the poorly-built stair structure. He nearly tripped over his own feet, small breaths being exchanged periodically. The footsteps of both you, Arkot, and the men thundered loudly like a drum solo.

The black-haired child huffed as he was forced to use extra momentum to propel himself over several stairs at a time ”I-I’m trying, Nee-chan!” 

“Well, I hate to say this, but try harder-“ You breathed out while scaling the last few steps. Running for almost an hour straight must’ve been extremely difficult for a boy his stature. You grimace at the thought of him falling behind. Who knew what would become of him? The shopkeepers from the market were cruel souls, really. But who wasn’t in this awful excuse of a city?

Arkot whimpered as his small form fumbled to climb the seemingly never-ending staircase once again. Whipping your head around to face him, you were greeted with the sight of his flushed cheeks and squinted eyes, pooling with unshed tears. His small chest heaved, lungs struggling to keep up with the speed of his legs.

Your frustration quickly dissolved and was replaced with pity and concern. Letting out a sigh, you halted for a split second. Squatting down to Arkot’s level, you gestured to your back and managed to murmur an airy, “Hop on.”

Arkot ceased all movement for a clipped moment; large chocolate brown eyes widening in contemplation. He didn’t want to slow you, but he surely couldn’t continue running like this. 

“Ugh, fine!” You grunted, exasperated, and you stood up and swiftly carried him bridal style.

‘I swear to god, this kid will be the end of me’ 

”N-Nee-chan! Stop!” The little boy squirmed in your tight embrace, but you kept a firm hold on him. You shot up the stairs as fast as you could as you heard the shouts of the men gaining on you. 

Straining your wobbly legs to power up to the landing of the stairway, you heard a blood-curdling screech. You immediately halted to a stop and snapped you head towards the cause of the sickening sound.

You were greeted to the sight of several men backing up against the wall. They were all quivering with fear as they begged for their lives. Looking down towards their feet, you saw the cause of their distress. 

Your breath caught in your throat when you saw the mutilated corpse’s wide, glossy eyes, forever to be frozen in fear. Its neck was bent at a repugnant angle and cold dark red liquid pooled around his(?) body. Blood. So much blood. It dripped from the lifeless puppet’s mouth as if it were drooling. It’s dead, shinning eyes bore into your widening ones. Bile had risen up your esophagus, threatening to escape your dry mouth. A whimper left the little boy in your clutches as he gaped at the abhorrent sight. You gently shoved his head into your chest so he wouldn’t be haunted by the sight. Blood. Too much blood. It’s too much. Stop it. It’s too much. It’s too much. Stop it. Stop it. I don’t care. STOP IT.

“H-hey, man... We don’t want any trouble! That kid stole from us, and we just-“ A sharp, odd-looking dagger cut the man’s throat as his voice gurgled out an incoherent plea. Falling down to his knees, the face of the murder in front was revealed.

”Disgusting pig. Going after a hungry child who stole a mere piece of clothing? Pick your battles wisely.”

A gasp seized your body as you saw the culprit of the gruesome attack. 

That man from before;

Chrollo.

Walking up from behind him was the blonde woman who was called Pakunoda. You gaped at the two adults as they continued to massacre the storekeepers in a swift manner, without a hint of remorse on their faces. Shock washed over your body like cold water; why were they mindlessly killing these men? Did they have a vendetta against them? Did they own them jenny? Why did they kill them in the first place? 

Arkot squirmed in your tight grip, wanting to get a better view of the atrocities you were currently witnessing. You shoved his head deeper into your chest, releasing a shuddering breath. Your fingers flew through his greasy, curly hair in an attempt to be comforting.

We need to leave.

You bolted in the opposite direction of those mysterious murders; in the opposite direction of those eerily familiar pleas for life.

Wiping the blood from her cheek, Pakunoda looked up at the landing of the staircase, expecting to see your small form again. Instead, she was met with your absence.

”Danchou, they’re gone.” She called out to her boss as he slit the throat of a rather stocky built man. Turning his to face her, he feigned an innocent, confused expression.

”Oh? And after everything we did for her too..? Oh well. It cannot be helped. We will see her soon.” He mused, swiftly shoving the blood-stained dagger into the folds of his coat.

”What about the little boy?” Paku asked, tilting her head in perplexity.

”Ah. He’s a liability. Don’t worry about him.” Chrollo uttered, kicking a corpse to the side so he could continue up the stairs. Turning around to look towards his blonde confidant once again, he saw that she was still frozen in her spot in contemplation.

Offering her a hand, he spoke, “Shall we?”

_______________________________

"Alright, you little monster. What'd you steal this time?" You sighed with a tired smirk on your face. You had made your escape only about 4 hours ago and the two of you had just managed to calm down. Well, Arkot had. Your hands shook with the thought of impending doom. A pit had formed in the center of your stomach and had refused to disappear. As soon as you arrived at your temporary trash pile of a home, you had dry-heaved to the brink of tears. Why can't it all stop?

Your scrawny fists balled at the fabric of your3 tattered skirt. You glanced down to see your nails digging into the flesh of your thighs. Ah, you hadn't even noticed. Slowly releasing the tension from your hands, you started counting your fingers, a habit that had helped you calm down since you were a toddler. It, unfortunately, wasn’t working. 

That man... Chrollo. He was so kind to you. Did he do that to protect you? No, that couldn’t be it. There was no room for compassion in this place. During your time in Meteor City, you had witnessed many gruesome acts of violence, but never murder. 

The way their bodies fell to the ground, the way they begged for their lives. It was much too clear for you; It was much too familiar to you. Memories of your past were echoing around your mind, shifting your only safe haven to a hell-scape.

"Nee-chan." The young boy, deciding to ignore your previous question, had spoken, voice cutting through the silent tension like a hot knife through butter. He had just finished igniting the fire.

Something that you can’t do yourself. Freak. You thought bitterly to yourself.

”Nee-chan.” The boy repeated. You quickly glanced up at the child's face, the makeshift bonfire illuminating his caramel skin. His large, cocoa eyes bore into yours, the innocence in them still distinguishable, but smothered by the truths of his reality. They were seated into dark, hallow, depressions embedded into his skull. The hot flames of the fire had danced through the windows of his eyes as he stared. Freckles sat atop his face in random, askewed positions, as if someone had taken a paintbrush and splattered ink across his cheeks. A neutral expression graced his lips, unsure of how to approach the topic of today. It was as if an artist was cruel enough to paint a hauntingly beautiful portrait of a child who has seen more atrocities than that of a war veteran. This was the first time you saw him as he was; a child. An innocent child, having to go through the same hardships that you dealt with on a daily basis.

"..Nee-chan, what happened?" Arkot murmured softly, not wishing to anger you.

"... We.. We were saved. There’s not much else to it.” Your voice wavered, trying to be as vague as possible. You didn't want to relive today's events.

Just don’t think about it. It doesn’t matter.

A dreary sigh had escaped the young boy's lips as he already knew that pressing for answers would be a lost cause.

"Well, I stole you a pair of pants.." Arkot stated, expressing an unfounded amount of tenderness upon his face, trying to lighten the mood. A sad smirk crossed your lips; all that trouble for a pair of pants? How grim. You thought with a chuckle.

"Thanks, kid." You muttered while ruffling his curly, black hair.

The young boy let out a small giggle and playfully punched your arm, "Come on, Nee-chan! You're a kid too!”

“Excuse me? I'll have you know that I'm the biggest adult to ever adult!" You and the boy erupted into a fit of laughter, finally starting to feel yourself calm down with the presence of Arkot.

It’s...It’s okay. It’ll be okay. You thought, your mind spinning on its axis. A more positive air began to form.

Still giggling, you reached down to grab food from your cross bag. You were met with its absence. Your eyes widened in fear as you frantically glanced around the surrounding area for you missing satchel, it being nowhere around.

When did it go missing? You didn’t remember ever setting it down-

A frustrated sigh escaped your lips. Well, it couldn’t be helped. 

“Sorry Arkot, but it looks like no dinner tonight..” You glumly smiled in his direction.

Crossing his arms and pouting, he responded, “Did you get robbed or something?”

”Yep!” You said a little too brightly for his taste, leading to him bonking you on your head.

”Idiot!” He giggled. You snickered at his antics, but you were silenced by his next actions.

You could feel the strength in his arms as he wrapped them around you, to trap you in his never-ending warmth. As he embraced you, you could feel the life in him, the blood pumping in his veins, and the warm breath coming off his lips onto your neck, as he cradled his head into the depression of your collarbone. 

He was hugging you. 

When was the last time you felt the affection of another human being? Years? Never in your life?

You liked it, you decided. You felt wanted, needed, even. 

He was your family; he was all you had, and he was more than enough. Slowly, you outstretched your arms and had returned his embrace, rocking the two of you in a slow, rhythmic pattern. 

“Arkot.” You whispered, “How did you end up here?”

Arkot’s past had always been an enigma to you. Yours was a touchy subject, so you figured that his would be as well. An unspoken rule was spurred between the two of you; don’t mention it. But Arkot was like your little brother, and he would be with you for a very long time. There should be no reason to hide such a thing when you two were so dependent on one another. The little sucker had wormed his way into your heart after all. 

The little boy's body tensed at the question, burying his face deeper into the nape of your neck.

"..Nee-chan, do we have to talk about this?" Arkot mumbled, voice being muffled by your body.

"Of course not, Arkot. I just want to know more about my little bro." You smiled sadly. 

He lifted his face from your neck, looking at you through wide, glimmering eyes.

”...I’ll tell you, Nee-chan.” His voice wavered, speaking with uncertainty. 

“I was born here. I don’t know my real parents, and I don’t need to. Because I have you, Y/N.” He breathed out, bangs covering his eyes in disappointment. 

“I-I don’t know how I survived as a baby... But I remember a mean woman who beat me. A-and I think she got tired. Of me, I mean. I was thrown around this city as a slave. People would buy me, keep me for one month, then batter me and leave me to die. It was an endless cycle. I never had a friend, or anyone to look up to... I didn’t even have a name. But one day, this man bought me. He showed me kindness, and what it meant to be a kid. His son had died a year prior, and I was a replacement of sorts. He called me “boy”. I had grown attached to him, seeing him as a dad. But one day.. One day, he didn’t wake up. The man’s name was Arkot. So that is what I call myself.”

”But then I realized.. The man never cared for me. I was a replacement. A slave. But with you, Nee-chan. I love you. So much. A-and you love me too, right? Y-You won’t leave me..?” Tears welled up in the little boy’s eyes as he sniffled. They swirled deeply with emotions thick enough to choke up the coldest of hearts. A frigid feeling swarmed your body in entirety.

You were left speechless. This was all he’s ever known? This lawless wasteland? Your eyes watered at the thought. 

“Of course I won’t leave you, Arkot. You’re all I have. The only family I have left. I love you with all my heart. Y-you won’t leave me, right?” You whimpered, clinging onto Arkot’s small frame as tight as you could. A panging in your chest beat insufferably. It was this wallowing feeling that had dug itself in and curled up, right where your heart should be.

“I-I won’t, Y/N! I swear!” Arkot sobbed as he shoved his head into your shoulder once again. Your shirt was forming a large wet spot where his eyes rested, and your heart quivered relentlessly.

“Shh... I-it’s ok... I’m here.” You gently caressed his head and ran your fingers through his soft black locks, something that never failed to calm him. Sobs wracked through his body while you held him close. Squishing your eyes shut, blinking away tears, you whispered words of reassurance into his ear.

Arkot deserved comfort.

___________________________

”Ah. So this is where she lives?” The young, blonde woman whispered, being careful not to wake the children that slept at her feet.

”No. It seems as if this is a temporary home? That’s very wise of her. She must’ve learned it the hard way.” Chrollo Lucilfer murmured, looking down at the young girl’s face illuminated by the moonlight.

”Danchou... Why do you need her? A mere child won’t improve our ranks, regardless of how much potential they have.” Pakunoda questioned, quite perplexed by the day's events.

”I’m doing her a favor, Paku. She’ll be indispensable in due time.” The Head of the Spider uttered, snuffing out the dying embers of the bonfire with his shiny dress shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school is icky😾


	3. Chapter 3

”Danchou... Why do you need her? A mere child won’t improve our ranks, regardless of how much potential they have.” Pakunoda questioned, quite perplexed by the day's events.

”I’m doing her a favor, Paku. She’ll be indispensable in due time.” The Head of the Spider uttered, snuffing out the dying embers of the bonfire with his shiny dress shoes.

___________________________________

You awoke in the middle of the night with a start. Apprehension ran through your veins as you laid still. Feeling a presence wrapped around your waist, you look down. Arkot was clinging tightly to you like a koala to a tree branch. You let out a quiet hum and burrowed your face in his hair. Memories of last night confessions swirled in your mind as you returned his embrace.

Your head was pounding; bladder full. You moved my jaw and felt your mouth was dry, as you moved you felt dirt and grit push into the side of your face. Something felt.. off. Nagging thoughts fluttered through your brain as you bit at your lip. Something was out of place. Something was here.

At that thought, the quiet, crisp sound of a page of a book turning shattered the serene silence.

Carefully adjusting Arkot out of your arms, you immediately sat up and reached for your satchel, realizing that it was missing. 

‘How am I supposed to defend myself now?’ You thought anxiously, missing the small switchblade that you carried at all times.

”Who- who’s there?” You shyly quipped, berating yourself for not sounding braver.

No response. 

“I’m warning you! I-I have a gun!” 

A small chuckle arose from the folds of never-ending darkness to your right. You jerked your head towards the threatening sound.

”Well, that’s a rather bold lie to tell. Don’t you think so, Y/N?"

A shiver ran down your spine as you tensed in fear. You recognized that voice. It was him. The man who saved your life by stealing others. How could he find the both of you in only ten hours?

"C-Chrollo? What are you doing here?" Your mind going a mile a minute as you tried to find a logical explanation for him being present in the disgusting junkyard.

Straining your eyes to look through the thick curtains of darkness, you vaguely made out the form of a man sitting down. His finger flipped, thumbprint scraping against the wheels of the lighter. It sparked then lit, a miniature explosion in the palm of his hand. The flame, a new creation, flickered and tossed itself around with the light wind. His face glowed in the soft orange lighting. A friendly smirk played on his lips; it was so convincing that you found it hard to believe that he had only murdered human beings hours ago.

Your heart pounded, eyes darting around, searching for an escape route. You didn't want to end up like those men. You didn't want Arkot to end up like those men.

"Come here. We have much to discuss." He muttered kindly as his companion, Pakunoda, walked up from behind him.

A gasp escaped your throat as you anxiously took a step back, accidentally stepping on your little brother. A groan left his mouth as he turned over to face the other side of the junkyard. 

'We have to escape' You fearfully thought.

Kicking him gently, you outstretched a hand to help him up. Once he groggily rose to his feet, you grasped his hand tightly.

"Ugghh, what's wrong, Nee-chan? I was sleeping, you know." The young boy yawned, tiredly rubbing his eyes in a desperate attempt to wake himself up. He promptly tensed up when he saw your apprehensive expression.

Arkot's eye widened in confusion, about to ask you a myriad of questions, before turning his head to look at the cause of your distress. A whimper sounded from his throat as he shook like a leaf. He lifted his head slowly to look in your eyes for comfort. And that's when you saw it. 

The most beautiful shade of scarlet you had ever seen had licked his brown irises. Well, that was new... Your eyes widened at the sight. You... You couldn't let these murders see him. Who knows what would happen?

'He could be sold into slavery or... No-'

Leaning down to whisper in his ear, whispered a clipped,

"Don't let go of my hand."

You shot away from the scene, surrendering the two of you to the miraculous beat of your feet against the ground. The angry pitter-patter of the soles of your shoes hitting the polluted ground. You head a distinctively loud sigh escape one of the two adults as you attempted to dart far away from them. Your heart pounded to the beat of your feet racing over the hard ground. Sweat beaded your forehead, causing your hair to cling to it as your throat ached for air, more air. The delicious rush of wind past your face as you heard the boy behind you let out a squeak of fear. Forcing your legs to push, harder you kept your sprint, anticipating the relief of escaping them. The two of you rounded the bend in the trash-laden path and came to an abrupt halt. Your breathing hitched in your throat making you already screaming lungs just about burst.

"M-maybe we lost them...?" Arkot gasped out, fearing the opposite possibility. 

"We have to keep going." You quipped, tightening your grip on his hand to continue running again.

A heavy hand landed on your shoulder, preventing your escape. A decidedly unheroic squeak left your throat as dread filled your senses. Your head shot up as you looked to see the owner of the hand. 

Chrollo's dark hair spilled over his eyes and blended with the night sky, the moonlight casting a faint glow to his fair skin. His clean suit glimmered in the blue lighting. The green headband that was firmly placed on his forehead now gone, leaving an odd, cross-shaped tattoo. It was a hauntingly beautiful sight, really.

He towered over you, a small smirk gracing his features. Arkot peeped as the shapely blonde woman apprehended him.

"Hm. I certainly didn't expect you to be that fast, Y/N. I'm rather impressed." The man hummed in contemplation, giving you an inscrutable glance.

"W-what do you want?!" You questioned, surprised by your own ferocity.

'Arkot, please stay calm. Don't make your eyes red- Is that even how it works? Fuck- Arkot, stay calm. It'll be-'

Your train of thought abruptly ended when you felt a Chrollo pat your head with a hearty chuckle. Your face immediately went slack as you stared at him in confusion. How could someone smile after shedding the blood of men? Images of the previous events played in your head only repeat. Red liquid filling your thoughts as you were on the brink of hyperventilation.

"Oh, you sure are a spitfire, aren't you little mouse? Do you know what your problem is? You don't know when you've been defeated. Do not fret though; we can fix that." He exhaled softly through his nose sharply, the corners of his lips tugging up in slight amusement; clearly not taking you seriously.

How- How dare he..?! Wake you up in the middle of the night to just start listing your flaws? Anger began to bubble up in the pit of your stomach as your mind grew blank with annoyance. And what does he mean by "Fix that"? Surely he doesn't believe that the two of you were stupid enough to follow him-

Opening your mouth to spew curses towards the young man, you were immediately cut off by Arkot's yells.

"H-Hey! What's going on!? What do you mean by "fix that", you perv? Come on, Nee-Chan, back me up! These guys are bad news!" The boy cried out, as his eyes burnt a bright scarlet. A gasp seized your throat as you tried to gage the towering man's reaction.

Chrollo narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. An audible hum left his lips as he stared into the little boy's eyes as he continued his tangent. Your breath caught in your throat as you glared at Arkot. The blonde woman looked down at him with wide, surprised eyes.

"-and I'll rip you limb for limb-" Arkot screeched while flailing his body to escape Pakunoda's god-like grip.

"Arkot, enough!" Your voice boomed, causing the boy to shoot you a dubious stare, continuing his rant.

"Y/N, are you serious? They killed people in front of us! And you trust them? You're the one who told me to never rely on strangers-"

"I never said that I trusted them! They saved our lives... We-we should hear them out, right? Now, please calm down." You murmured, giving him a pleading frown.

Turning to look up at Chrollo, you rudely asked, "What is it you want?"

A sly smile spread across the man's face as pat the crown of your head again. 

"Well, we want both of you, of course."

"Eh?! What's that supposed to mean? We aren't for sale-" You spewed, a venomous glare gracing your filthy, dirt-stained face. The anger came rushing back to you, full force. Who do these people think they are? Claiming to want to own you? Opening your mouth to release a string of curses at the young man, you were cut off by his smooth chuckling.

"You have a lot of nerve, you know. Talking to the head of the Phantom Troupe in such a manner."

Time stood still as you heard his words. Head of the Phantom Troupe? Following you to a disgusting junkyard? You tilted your head, puzzled. Yeah right. He must be joking. You bet tons of people claimed to be the infamous leader of the Spider, and surely this Chrollo guy was no exception. 

Arkot let out a condescending huff of air, "The Phantom Troupe? Do you seriously expect Nee-Chan to believe that? As if-"

You tried to supress your giggling, you really did! But you had ended up bursting into loud laughter, and doubled over, cackling at the somewhat humorous situation. 

The others looked down at your quaking form. Arkot, being confused, albeit worried, tried to approach you, but Pakunoda tightened her grip on him. Chrollo glanced down at you, face portraying no emotion.

"Pfff- You really expect us to believe that," you huffed, trying to regain your breath, "I mean, we may be kids, but we aren't idiots!" Don't worry, Arkot. These guys are probably posers-"

Chrollo's hand gripped your shoulder with much more vigor than last time, making you wince. He glanced over at Pakunoda, shooting her a soft smile.

"Now, now, N/N-Chan. Do we really need to show you proof? You will doubt us, no matter what we do." He calmly reasoned to you. You huffed at his words. Well, yeah you weren't going to believe them. It was a ridiculous notion! Anyone with half a brain would be suspicious.

You looked up to smile sweetly at the man, "Aw well, I guess we have a dilemma! So me and Arkot will just get out of your hair. Don’t worry! Me and my little buddy won’t snitch. We ain’t seen nothing!” You said a bit too enthusiastically, attempting to shrug Chrollo off your shoulder. He kept a firm grip.

"Y/N. Although I pride you on being careful, we are not your enemies. The Troupe is filled with people just like you; wanting to find a place in the world. We do the things we do for the sake of our family. I only want you to be apart of that." Chrollo sighed, giving you a look of pity. A blank expression spread across your face as you heard is words.

A family? You have Arkot, and your mom is out there, looking for you! You don't need another family. You don't.

But you do. You so desperately want one. Don't be a deceitful liar, Y/N. You want to be a child. You want someone to tuck you into a warm, clean bed. Someone to kiss you goodnight. Someone who would care whether you lived or died. The Phantom Troupe sounded like a dangerous group to get tangled up in, but you were used to danger. Two of them had just saved your life; something caretakers would do, right? You and Arkot could finally belong somewhere.

If it meant I had a family, finally some place to call home, would I really yield to murder? 

You would.

You turned your head to gage Arkot's reaction. The boy's face was twisted in confusion and suspicion. He always was the careful type.

"O-Okay, fine." You murmured, finally conceding to the man's proposition. 

"Eh?! Nee-Chan, how could you trust these guys so easily?" Arkot questioned, brilliant red eyes diming back to their beautiful chocolate brown color. 

Shooting him a shy smile, you responded, "I don't. Sometimes, you've got to put all your cards on the table, buddy." 

Chrollo looked over at his blonde confidant with a pleased expression on his face. "So, it's settled." He voiced, letting go of your shoulder and digging his hand into the folds of his blazer. 

A gasp escaped your throat as you saw what was in his hand.

"My satchel! Where'd you find it?" You cheered, happiness filling you as you grabbed your bag from the male.

A warm smile grew onto Chrollo's face as you hugged the satchel to you chest. "You dropped it while you were running away from those men. You should really be more careful with your things, little mouse." He hummed, ruffling your hair, fondly.

"Danchou, we should depart, soon." The tall blonde woman stated, glancing towards the skyline. 

You watched as the large glowing sphere rose slowly into the dull morning sky. Casting sunbeams in every direction while it illuminated the junkyard. You stared at the horizon as the colors made by the rising sun changed, growing more vivid with the passing time. Making the sky more radiant as it climbed higher and higher beyond the horizon.

Arkot cautiously trotted over to you, burying his head into your neck. "Nee-Chan... Are you sure about this?" He whispered to you in concern.

"This will be good for us, Arkot. Just wait. You'll probably thank me later." You murmured jokingly, running your fingers through his hair as per usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chrollo, you manipulative bastard- ur still hot tho so I'll allow it ig🙄✋
> 
> if y’all like this story u should prob read it on quotev bc i use it more often lmao


	4. Chapter 4

Arkot cautiously trotted over to you, burying his head into your neck. "Nee-Chan... Are you sure about this?" He whispered to you in concern.

"This will be good for us, Arkot. Just wait. You'll probably thank me later." You murmured jokingly, running your fingers through his fluffy hair as per usual.

______________________________________________

It was a whirlwind of a walk to the invisible barrier between the town of the forgotten and the rest of society, consisting of you pondering your decision to follow the strange adults. Silence consumed the atmosphere, apart from the sounds of the footsteps the four of you took. Your hands bunched up the fabric of your stolen, much-too-large sweatpants. Niceties and words of reassurance swirled in your head as you turned your head to see how your little brother was fairing with this ordeal.

Although he currently lacked his childish exuberance, he seemed fine. You wondered if it was a front; if he was only concealing his fear to not worry you. Realization dawned on you. You should be the one doing that. You are his “big sister” after all. Or perhaps he just trusted your judgment? A spark of pride crawled up your spine as a ghost of a smile settled upon your lips. It's nice, you decided, having someone trust you. 

Before Arkot, you had no one. You had lived by yourself in a filthy hovel. Every day, you wondered if your mother had returned, wanting to give you sanctuary inside of her arms. Prayed for her to hold you close and mutter one million apologies in your ear and drown you in her love. She must be looking for you, you thought. She loves you just as a mother should. Bittersweet memories of your childhood before this wretched place ached in the pit of your mind as a small smile graced your features. You would find her one day; when you could pay her stupid debts and provide for her. Perhaps she would seek comfort in your arms.

But until then, you had him. He was your reason to keep pushing; to keep waking up in the morning. Growing up, you had wished for someone to look out for you. You were giving him what you’ve always wanted; a role model. And you loved him. More than one can love the stars in the sky. More than one can love the ever-changing beauty of the earth. More than one could love themselves. You adored him, and he adored you, and for that, you would thank him one day; spoil him in splendor far beyond the reaches of his imagination. For he deserved to be a child; something you had never experienced and always dreamed you would.

"Nee-chan." Arkot sang out to you, voice as sweet as honey. You were a bit flustered, not expecting the subject of your thoughts to speak to you. "We're here." You snapped out of your trance, suddenly remembering the task at hand.

Oh, right... We decided to follow murderers.

"Y/n, little boy, it's time to go," Pakunoda spoke kindly, yet tiredly.

”Uh, actually it’s Arkot-“

You tuned them out, favoring to glance back at your city one more time. A sigh escaped your lips as you reflected on your time in that hell hole. It had been nothing but awful to you; a disgusting place filled with broken dreams and fractured people. But you grew up here. Raised by the streets you walked every day. This was home, whether you liked it or not. It made you who you are today, and you would be forever grateful for that. Your eyes lit up as the corners of your mouth turned up, the dimples in your cheeks appeared as your whole face relished the bittersweetness of the moment. 

"Alright." You breathed, grasping Arkot's hand as you walked away from the only place you've ever belonged.

______________________________

“Danchou... Who are these kids?” The pink-haired woman asked, brilliant blue eyes shooting between you and the young boy. You tensed under her excruciating gaze and tighten your grip on Arkot's clammy, trembling palm. He had never left Meteor City before, so this must've been a sensory overload for him. His head shot around to the shabby, dreary conditions of the large, vacant building at neck-breaking speed. He clearly hadn't noticed the woman's judgmental stare. His wide, brown eyes settled on the corner of the large, musty room where several odd-looking adults occupied, talking amongst themselves. Not noticing them beforehand, Arkot tensed. You squeeze his hand; a gentle reminder that you were still here; that you would still protect him if need be, even though the two of you knew that you would be beaten almost immediately. 

"Please be kind to our guests, Machi. Let's speak in private." Chrollo spoke, looking down at the petite woman. You took in a sharp intake of breath, scared of what was to come of you if he had left. You certainly didn't trust him, but he and Pakunoda were the only people you and Arkot knew. They were yet to harm you, even after seeing the strange power your young companion's eyes held. Truly they couldn't be that bad? If you were in their shoes, you surely would've taken his ability to see and left him for dead. Why were they even offering you this help? Did you have something they desperately craved? No, that doesn't sound right. You're a child from Meteor City; a seemingly unwanted being. Some might even say unlovable; you had the burn marks on your back to prove it. You understood taking Arkot, but why you? But they had wanted you, and that alone was enough.

In a childish attempt to keep him rooted next to you, you lightly pulled on the cuff of his blazer. 

You stared into his hypnotizingly deep gray eyes with a pitiful expression plastered on your face. 'Stay with us', you silently begged. The young man's face softened upon seeing your distress. His lips curved upwards in amusement as he bent down to ruffle your head affectionately.

"It'll be ok, little mouse. I'll be right back. Paku is right there if you need anything." He uttered softly, tilting his head towards his blonde confidant. You turned your head and faced the tall woman and you were greeted with a gentle smile. Your cheeks flushed as you awkwardly smiled back. You lightly nodded your head, finding yourself safe in the company of Pakunoda. 

The woman, Machi, curtly nodded and walked towards an isolated area, Chrollo following close behind. You let out a bottled breath, one you didn’t even notice you were holding in. 

Arkot tugged on your hand, wanting your attention. Looking down at him, you asked, “What’s the problem, Otōto?”

”Should we... Should we introduce ourselves to them?” He questioned you, eyes shooting between you and the group of misfits. An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach. There’s ten of them, all together. Did they live together or something? You knew that Chrollo welcomed the two of you with open arms, but what if the rest of the Troupe didn’t? You didn’t want to risk rejection. 

“...Nee-chan? Are you okay? You’ve been zoning out a lot lately.” He interrupted your thought process, looking up at you with large, sparkling eyes. A sigh left your throat. You had to introduce yourself to them sooner or later. 

“Oh, sorry. Um, maybe we should ask Pakunoda to introduce us? She knows them, after all...” You trailed off, glancing at the blonde woman. Arkot nodded his head, agreeing that asking her was a good idea.

Walking up to the woman, you shyly asked, “Um, Pakunoda-sama? Me and Arkot were kind of wondering if you could introduce us to your friends?" You found the ground to be more interesting than meeting the woman's blistering gaze.

A soft chuckle rang from the woman as she gently tilted your chin to look you in the eyes. 

"Of course, Y/n-chan. And please, no need for formalities. Just "Paku" is fine." She looked down at you fondly, a warm smile gracing her lips as she ruffled your head. You realized that this was something that you would have to get used to if you stayed with these people.

You averted your gaze, lightly blushing; this was... odd. You liked the affection. It was welcomed, you realized. The way she looked you in the eyes, not seeing you as a burden. Your eyes burned as you silently beamed. This was how it was supposed to be. This was love; this was bliss. Your mind was blank for a moment as your body warmed with the security of being desired.

Paku's hand grasped yours, dragging you towards the ragtag group of adults. Your head turned to Arkot, silently encouraging him to follow you with an excited beam.

The group ceased all conversations as your footsteps echoed throughout the eerily tranquil environment.

"Pakunoda.. Who.. are they?" A short man asked, speaking through a thick, foreign accent. 

" Guests of ours. This is Y/n," She said, motioning to you. "and this is ... Acorn?"

"It's Ark-"

"Why'd the boss bring two young humans here? And they are rather adorable!" A tall, silver-haired man remarked suavely (and condescendingly, you might add; what kid of weirdo calls little kids "young humans"?), cutting off your little brother. "I'm Omokage. And might I add, you both have beautiful eyes; bright, but I wouldn't say innocent-"

A large, buff man with brown skin butted in, slapping Omokage on the shoulder, causing him to stumble over, "Don't be a fucking creep, Doll guy. They're kids. Keep it in your pants!"

'Oh, so he had a gross thing for eyes.' You thought, glancing over at Arkot. He looked tense; eyes wide with fear. You suddenly remember the ... mutation in his eyes. You would have to speak to him later.

"I'm Uvogin. I do wonder why Danchou brought two scrawny kids to the hideout... Maybe so we could eat them?" He murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully before snarling at the both of you. 

Your body stiffened at the threat, pulling Arkot flush to your side as you ferally barred your teeth at the man. "Hey! The fuck is that supposed to mean? If that's your idea of a joke, then you sure aren't funny!" You shouted at the man.

Your body paralyzed with fear as the man towered over the two of you, face void of emotion. Although you were terrified, you kept your stance; a dirty look plastered over your face as you stared up into his slanted, green eyes. The staring contest continued for about ten more seconds, before Uvogin barreled over, laughing.

"I like you, kid! You gotta lot of spunk. Hey Nobunaga, I bet you 2,000 jenny that she's a manipulator!" He cackled, looking towards the man with sleek black hair tied into a ponytail. 'He looks like one of those samurai' You rose an eyebrow, letting go of Arkot. 

"Hm. No. She seems like an emitter to me." Nobunaga stated, a small smile gracing his lips.

"Um, what the hell is a manipulator and emmiting thingy?" You asked brashly, angered by being left in the dark.

"Ah. So, you don't know nen? Danchou has no use for you, so why did he bring you here..?" A seemingly normal looking young man with blonde hair questioned. "Ah that must've sounded rude. My apologies, Y/n-Chan. I'm Shalnark."

You soon met the rest of the group, learning that the short man's name was Feitan. They all seemed nice, with the exception of Phinks; a man who was very short-tempered, 'Maybe he's angry about not having eyebrows' You thought to yourself, chuckling at your own joke. While the troupe talked amongst themselves, you looked down at Arkot, expecting to see a smirk on his face. You were greeted with a look of confusion. 

You leaned down and whispered in his ear, "What's the matter, buddy?" 

"Nee-chan, don't you think this is weird? They've been.. so nice to you. And they've just been ignoring me for the past 20 minutes. I-I'm not jealous or anything! I just think it's weird. I mean think about it; if you were part of a super famous gang of thieves, would you take in two random kids? I wouldn't! I just think it's susp-"

"I always forget how cautious you are, Arkot... Listen. Sometimes, its good to trust people. You've just gotta get over yourself, you know?" You rose a brow, not understanding his needless worrying.

"But, Y/n-"

"Arkot. There's nothing to worry about, okay? They all seem nice. They could protect us much better than I can. Just take the risk, please." You reasoned, desperately trying to convince him. This could be your ticket to a temporary family, and you're not going to give it up that easily.

"... Okay, Nee-Chan. But don't expect me to like it!" Arkot crossed his arms and huffed, making you chuckle.

"Alright, alright! That's fair, I guess!" You beamed at him and ruffled his hair.

"Little mouse. How do you like it here?" A deep voice rumbled behind you, catching you off guard.

"Oh! Hello, Chrollo-Sama. Yes, m-me and Arkot like it here very much!" You squeaked, giving him a 90-degree bow of respect.

"Now, now, N/n-Chan. No need for formalities; call me Danchou. Or just Chrollo will do." The black-haired man smiled fondly.

"Chrollo.. Why children here? And... Why you.. Summon us?" Feitan questioned, perplexed with the days events.

"New recruits for our family."

Your eyes crinkled at the edges and the corners of your lips turned upwards. This is perfect. This is wonderful. This is beautiful. A family. No matter how many times you thought about that word, your heart soared.

"As for your second question, Feitan, I called you all here for a job. You've heard of the Kurta Clan, correct? We're going to pay them a little visit soon."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i’ve been so tired lately sorry for the lack of updates

//TW// : Blood

"As for your second question, Feitan, I called you all here for a job. You've heard of the Kurta Clan correct? We're going to pay them a little visit soon."

“Oh... I see...” Feitan arched his eyebrow, silently questioning why Chrollo didn’t tell him this during the phone call prior. 

Kurta Clan? That sure sounded familiar; you could've sworn you've heard of them before. The sound of the Phantom Troupe's voices were drowned out by your persistent attempts to place meaning onto the term.

Arkot, innocently confused, tugged on the hem of your musty sweater, wanting to know what exactly was happening. He always seemed to do that; pull you from your thoughts just when you seemed to be smothered by them. It’s like he's psychic or something. You tenderly simpered at the thought. 

You glanced down at him— wide, brown eyes boring into your own. "Let's talk. Please." He silently pleaded, forehead creased with worry and puzzlement. A ghost of a smile sat upon your face as you nodded at him understandingly. Although you felt like he was only being paranoid, you didn't want him to feel apprehensive in the current situation. 

He must not be comfortable enough to speak with Chrollo. Can't blame him, though... The guy is kinda scary. Alright, I'll ask someone to excuse us, I guess. You thought.

Your voice cut through the soft chatter of the atmosphere, garnering the attention of only one. Uvogin glanced down at your small form, a beastly grin etched across his face as bent down to eye level. You stared at each for a few moments; the confusion palpable across your face. 

"Um-" You were immediately cut off by Uvo grabbing you by your waist and hoisting you up. Your arms loosely dangled to your sides as the large man held you from underneath your armpits. Shock ran through you as you gaped at him. You struggled in his grasp, empty threats escaped your throat as Arkot gasped from behind you. Your limbs flailed aimlessly as you tried your best to pry yourself from his grasp.

“What’s the matter, little lady? Speak up!” The man shouted, garnering the attention of the rest of the adults.

You stopped squirming in his grasp as a furious blush grew on your face at his words. 

“Little... Lady? N-Nevermind,” You diverted your attention from Uvo, suddenly finding the ground a much more interesting than him.” Can um... Can me and Arkot be excused for a moment?” You mumbled, hoping that anyone but Uvogin heard you.

"Louder!" Uvo bellowed in your face, lightly shaking your body. Your head recoiled back as droplets of spits flew onto you. You frowned deeply at his deplorable attitude. Who does this guy think he is?

"Leave her alone, Uvo. Poor girl looks scared out of her wits." A voice interrupted, mockingly. Your head turned towards the sound, ready to thank your savior. Your praises of gratitude died in your throat as you saw it was the woman who was shooting Arkot and yourself dirty looks. Your body relaxed in the muscular man's vice-like grip as you peered at the young woman. Machi, was it? You narrowed your eyes at the women, contempt seeping through your gaze. Her striking blue eyes met yours, silently compelling you to stand down. Anger slowly bubbled in the pit of your stomach as you turned away from her. 

"I asked if Arkot and I could be excused for a moment." You spat venomously, seemingly annoyed rather than fearful with your current situation. The atmosphere of the room became tense and heavy at your tone. You vaguely heard Arkot's breath hitch as you realized that he would give you an earful for being snippy towards the gang of extremely dangerous murders. Uvogin eyes widened as he stared at you.

“Now. Put me down before you regret it.”

Your blank eyes met his, inaudibly threatening him. The burly man wordlessly placed you back on your feet, crossed his arms, and huffed.

"Ah. Yes, of course." Pakunoda's voice cut through the tension, shooting you a soft smile.

"Great." You murmured, glancing down at the little boy, "Come on, Arkot. Is that, uh, is that corner okay?" You asked, pointing to the far end of the ridiculously large room.

"Um... Sure..." Arkot mumbled, eyes wide.

Uvo peered at the two children walking, his face pallid as his gaze zeroed onto the little girl. That aura was suffocatingly deadly, even he could admit that. He averted his gaze with a huff, having felt embarrassed that you caught him off guard. 

This is wrong. How could she have done that? At her age, too.

Your aura felt heavy. It felt as if a wave of dread and impending doom had washed over him, drenching him in anxiety and alertness. A bead of sweat ran down Uvogin's brow as he recalled the still vaguely present nen's effects on him.

The band of thieves stood in silence, the only noise in the room being the pitter-patter of your and Arkot's feet. 

"Danchou... What just happened?" Nobunaga questioned, eyes widened in puzzlement and slight fear. "That aura was... filled with such malice? I don't understand."

"She looks extremely young... I've heard of children using nen before, but that... That was fearsome. Has she used ten to slow her aging or something?" A mountain of a man, Franklin spoke, his voice a low rumble as he stared at the ground. "Where exactly did you find her?"

"Meteor City. I assumed that she would be a good addition to the Troupe." Chrollo calmly stated. His steel-gray eyes piercing into the back of the little boy's head, as a stony expression laid plastered across his face.

"But, Danchou... She... is child." Feitan burrowed his head further down his bandana, forehead creased in confusion as he pondered Chrollo's statement.

"Yes, I agree. No matter how much nen she possesses, would it really be wise to-"

"Enough." Uvogin cut off Omokage, eyes clinging to the dusty floor that was littered with footprints. "I agree with Danchou. This girl is... crazy strong. It would probably be in our favor if we kept her around." His voice wavered in fear. No, not fear. A little girl can't scare me.

Nobunaga glanced up at his friend, his blood running cold as he discerned the horror hidden behind his words. He had felt the petrifying aura, only being slightly rattled by it. But Uvogin was holding the child. His close proximity to it’s... potential must’ve been frightening, even for a powerhouse of a man such as himself.

Chrollo arched his eyebrows, sensing the apprehension behind the Uvogin’s words. Regardless of his true feelings on the matter, his statement was objectively correct. The aura that had washed over them all was beautifully terrifying, one that could one day surpass his own. The Phantom Troupe would be able to live on, once they were all dead and gone. All they needed was a successor.

"Indeed. Now, are we all in agreement? Or will we need to toss a coin?" Chrollo eyed the rest of the Troupe, gauging their reactions. He expected them to respond with-

"I see no reason why we should. You're the boss, Danchou, you make the decisions." Pakunoda voiced softly, cutting through the tense atmosphere.

"Yes. Your word is final, I suppose." Nobunaga spoke under his breath. His head shifted towards the two children, now speaking in a far corner of the room. "But... What about the boy?"

"Oh, him? He's a Kurta."

"A fucking Kurta? In Meteor City! I thought they lived in the Lukso Province or something..." The eyebrowless man, Phinks, exclaimed, his loud voice booming across the walls of the room.

"No no, they do. He must have been kidnapped when he was a child or something." Shalnark added. Franklin looked down at him, puzzlement legible on his face.

"That's odd, don't you think? Well, I guess a seasoned hunter mus-"

"We are going to exterminate him when the time comes. He is of no use to us." Chrollo firmly interrupted, his hauntingly gorgeous eyes glaring daggers into Arkot's back. "We must prioritize Y/N-chan’s trust, for the time being. Who knows what will happen if the boy's life is stolen from him before her very eyes. Machi and I have already formulated a plan on how to carry it out.”

“Nee-chan... W-What was that...” 

“I schooled them, didn’t I? Ha! Nobody messes with Y/N and Arkot L/N! And if they try to, I’ll fuck ‘em up!” You smugly jested, a cat-like smirk etched across your face. The little boy felt his cheeks heat up at sharing the same family name as you but soon shook it off, remembering the task at hand. You never did know how to read the room, did you?

”Haha! I’m the best big sister to ever sister, right Arkot!”

”Y/N.” Arkot firmly spoke, using your first name instead of an honorific to illustrate the seriousness of this conversation.

”Did ya see that big guy’s face? It was priceless-"

"Y/N!"

"W-what?" You questioned, staring down into his bright eyes. His forehead was creased with lines of irritation, something foreign to his face.

"Nee-Chan, listen! When you made... Um... Uvo put you down, you seemed so... so scary. What the hell was that?"

"Language, Acorn-“

"Don't change the subject, Y/N... What happened?" Arkot hopefully searched your face for an answer, only to see that his attempts were futile.

Your face contorted to one of confusion. ”What are you talking about? Nothing bad happened, broski. All I did was stand up for myself. What, you wanna berate me or something?” You stared down at him, confusion palpable across your features. A sigh escaped Arkot’s throat as he shook his head in defeat. You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling guilty for putting your little brother’s concerns to the side. 

“Dude, I’m sorry, but I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. Can you at least explain?”

The little boy’s head shot up, puzzlement and fear legible in his chocolate brown eyes as they zeroed onto your E/C orbs. 

“What?” Arkot murmured, his voice cracking with uneasiness. Your blood ran cold as you stared at the short boy. His curly, black hair cascading over his eyes as he quivered with trepidation. 

“A-Arkot, what’s with the reaction..? J-Just elaborate, okay? You’re kind of freaking me out, buddy. Are you okay?” You hurriedly asked, worries bouncing against the wall of your skull as your trembling hands reached out to grab his shoulder. 

“Y/N. W-When you talked back to the lady with pink hair, a-and threatened that big guy, the whole room became... cold. It felt like I was dying. And I think the others felt it too. You probably weren't paying attention, b-but I was. They all tensed up and their eyes got big and I was so scared a-and you looked s-so mean and I was gonna-"

"Arkot, you're rambling. Calm down. I'm here— You don't need to be nervous." You quickly reassured, rubbing his shoulder. He flinched at your touch, taking a small step back. You immediately retracted your hand, vision trained on the young boy's face. His wild eyes wide with horror; he was scared. **Scared of you.**

____________________________

_Your tongue felt painfully dry as if sandpaper was being rubbed against it. Water. You needed water. You turned away from your dad, eyes trained on the floor below you as you took small steps towards the rusty sink._

_Drip drop._

_The sickening sound echoed throughout the room._

_"Tea. Maybe, I could make tea... Yes, tea is good. Tea is very good, yes. Do you want tea, Dad? I'm making tea right now."_

_Drip drop._

_"Dad, I asked if you wanted tea. Maybe, um maybe, peppermint? No, no. You like oolong, right? Yes, that's right... I'll make it right now, Dad. Oh, that's right. We ran out last night. S-sorry, Dad.”_

_Drip drop._

_You picked up the old, rusty teapot that you've had for as long as you remember. You tightly grasped at the handle, crushing it completely._

_"Oh... H-Handles are for losers, right Dad. I-It's fine. I don't need it..."_

_Drip drop._

_You slammed the teapot onto the gas-powered stove._

_"Dad, why aren't you talking. Did I do something wrong, Dad? Dad, please answer me."_

~~_Don't turn around, please Y/N. Don't turn around. Don't look at it. It's not him. Just wait for mom to come home. Don't turn around. Don't turn around. PLEASEDON’TTURNAROUNDPLEASEY/NPLEASE_ ~~

_Drip drop. Drip drop. Drip Drop._

_You slowly turned your head away from the sink, facing the direction of the repetitive noise of liquid dripping. You halted your motions, your fists tightly curling in on themselves. Your body quivered with fear. Fear of seeing what you knew was there._

_"Dad..."_

_Drip drop. Drip drop. Drip drop._

_You faced your dad, face devoid of emotion._

_Your father's limp body was pressed against the wall, seemingly levitating off the ground._

_Drop._

_His wide, glassy, E/C eyes were widened with fear, a perfect snapshot of his last moments alive._

_Drip._

_His warm cold blood gurgled out of his gaped mouth. Beads of the liquid dropped onto the floor._

_Drop._

_"I said that we ran out of your favorite tea. I'm going to go pick some up, okay?"_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday to me

_Arkot, you're rambling. Calm down. I'm here— You don't need to be nervous." You quickly reassured, placing a sturdy hand gently on his shoulder. Even though the material beneath your palm was anything but soft, you continued to rub soothing circles. He flinched at your touch, taking a small step back. You immediately retracted your hand, vision trained on the young boy's face. His wild eyes wide with horror; he was scared. **Scared of you.**_

* * *

There are children in the dusty, rubble-filled space— two astoundingly malnourished children, so frail and fragile that they seemed out of place in the expansive room. They both stood in a dark and dreary corner, only themselves to keep each other company at that moment in time.

One was petrified— his small frame quivering in fear as he gazed up at senior. His wide, _~~red~~_ chocolate brown eyes wide with confusion and fear.

The other was staring down at her hands, seemingly entrapped with each fingerprint, each centimeter of skin, every speck of dirt and grime clinging to her palms. A slack expression was etched across her face, E/c orbs glossy and wide with an unreadable ferocity imprinted onto her corneas as she was hypnotized by the aggression plaguing her thoughts.

It was a simple thing, really.

You were a murderer. Your own father had died by your hands. 

It had been years since you had thought of that moment, choosing to push it into the deepest crevice that your mind could supply. It's as your mother always said; "The past is a place of reference, not a place of residence". You took the advice to heart, following her words to a tee. Prioccuping yourself with petty thievery, makeshift families, dreams of the future— anything to cast a shadow on those dreadfully unbearable memories.

And it worked. You had managed to convince yourself that you were happy the way you were, that things would only get better when you found your mom. Yet, there you were— in the hideout of one of the most infamous band of thieves that the world had ever seen, souring your relationship with the only person that you genuinely cared about. _How did this happen? Why am I here? I want to go home._ The words chanted in your brain like a mantra; like you were praying to the gods above for an answer. _Is this rock bottom?_

"Y/n..."

You met the boy's eyes, deep brown meeting (e/c).

You're older than the boy in front of you, wiser perhaps, but you were only four years his senior— a child just like him. And finally, at the moment, you truly saw Arkot.

The child sitting in front of you was nothing like the boy you thought he was.

There was no curly black hair cascading down his head, shimmering with cleanliness; in its place was knotted tresses, matted with dirt due to the absence of bathing, the grease clinging his follicles shinning a sickly color. His eyes sat deep into the divets of his skull-- dark circles ringed around them from lack of sleep. His eyes held no childlike sparkle in his eyes, only a dimness that an adult would hold. He _wasn't_ your savior. He wasn't even your _real_ brother. At this moment you truly realized just exactly what he was— a child. A child who had witnessed murder just a day prior and brushed it off as if it was nothing more than a walk in the park.

But children were supposed to _cry._ Children were supposed to be weak; they need someone to provide them strength and hope. He has never experienced that. His whole life he was passed around like chain-smokers sharing a cigarette; he was nothing more than an object. During your whole time together, you had prided yourself on being a good guardian for the little boy, despite only being ten years old. But he was protecting _you—_ He was providing _you_ comfort— pushing his feelings aside for the sake of your own. You had used him. You were no different than the monsters of Arkot's past.

"Nee-Chan..." He repeated softly, his voice wavering in fear of your response.

You were useless.

The endearing use of attaching an honorific to your name felt bitter upon your ears.

"I'm sorry for f-flinching, okay? What's wrong? You keep zoning out."

Silence encased the room, apart from the occasional bark from across the room, courtesy of Phinks. 

Arkot stood like the awkward child he was, as he shook from the tension. The corner had a sense of haunting, a melancholy feel of despair that he couldn't quite shake. He didn't like it, but the curiosity was gnawing at him.

"Y/n-"

"Arkot, I... I’m sorry."

"Y/n, why are you even apologizing-"

"Is something the matter, little mouse?" A heavy hand sat upon your shoulder, shaking you out of your stupor. You shakily looked at the owner of the appendage, seeing Chrollo Lucilfer.

"...Yes. I-I'm perfectly fine. Just a bit tired, is all." You softly smile, trying to overshadow the stilted sound of your voice.

A frown slowly grew onto his face.

”Ah— I see. We did you wake in the middle of the night, didn’t we? Well, I suppose that you should rest... A shower might do you some good as well.” The raven-haired man spoke politely, a delicate smile replacing his disappointed expression, as he patted your head as you would a dog. “Hmm. I’ll ask Pakunoda to reserve a hotel room."

”That's not necessary! We’re perfectly fine here... Thank you, though-“

”Nonsense. We should provide you with the best.”

”Are you sure?” You spoke, awe and hesitation evident in your voice.

”Y/n-Chan. You’re one of us now— accept our hospitality. Would you like Pakunoda to accompany you?"

"No. C-can you join us?"

* * *

Darkness bathed the hotel room, the only form of illumination being the waxing gibbous moon peeking through one side of the thick curtains. Upon the window's ledge sat you, gazing into the night sky. You were hugging your knees to your chest, a desperate attempted to calm yourself down. A shuddering breath escaped past your lips as you averted your gaze from the stars. Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, your hands slowly rubbed up against your forearms, vaguely missing the musty feel beneath your fingertips. The soft glow of the moonlight reflected against your skin, giving it a shimmering coat. It almost made you look clean. _Almost_. 

Your hands had spilled the blood that ran in your veins. You had gone years forgetting that moment in time and now it's come back to punish you. 

_Karma, much?_

You let out a sigh, glancing over at Arkot. The soft glow bathed his brown skin, casting a blue luminescent color. A small frown sat across your lips— Why couldn't _you_ sleep that peacefully.

Your head unconsciously lulled towards the other bed present in the room. Your breath hitched when you realized that the bed was vacant. 

"Y/n-Chan."

"Huh?!" You swung your head in the direction of the voice, confusion, and surprise lacing your features.

Chrollo sat perched upon the opposite side of the window's ledge, gazing at you with a dreamlike smirk etched across his face. The moonlight cast itself onto the right side of his pale skin. His white undershirt delicately shifting in the light breeze that the night provided. 

"You surprised me!" You shyly whispered, a wiry smile growing onto your lips. 

A quiet chuckle left the raven-haired man's throat as he took note of your reaction, "Ah, I could see that." He shortly paused, seeming like he didn't know how to initiate a conversation. "Y/n—Who is your friend? Arkot, was it?"

Smiling warmly, you responded, "Oh! Um, I met him a couple of months ago. Arkot is only six, you know. I was in his position serval years ago, and I guess I felt bad. We've lived together for about three or four months now." You lightly turned your head to view the sleeping figure of your charge, your face contorting into one of tranquility, "I don't know what I'd do without him."

"Ah. How heartwarming.” In the dim glow of the night, you observed the grown man’s face; his eyebrows knit thoughtfully as a small smirk grew upon his lips as he smirked down at you, “And he has the power to turn his eyes scarlet?"

Your entire body noticeably tensed, scared of what his angle was. Arkot's eyes were a beautiful mystery to you, and you wanted them to stay that way. This man is a thief-- a murderous fiend. Would he harm your little brother?

"... Yes, he does. I was surprised when I first found out, but Arkot is perfectly average. It's okay."

_He won’t hurt him._ You heaved a sigh, shoulders slumping in relief.

Why would someone go through this much trouble just for a pair of pretty eyes— seems rather unlikely.

"Y/n. You obviously won't take my word for it, seeing as how you've known Arkot longer than you've known me, but-"

"But what?" You spoke hurriedly, worry filling you as you cut him off.

"I've been around the world, little mouse. You must trust that I know what I'm talking about." Chrollo exhaled deeply, seemingly annoyed by your interruption, "Your friend is a member of the infamously murderous Kurta Clan. Their eyes turn a blistering red color when intense feelings of bloodlust wash over them. They plan on targeting the entirety of Meteor City for their next massacre.”

You stared at him, warily, eyes narrowing in confusion and doubt. _Arkot being related to a nation of murders?_ Yeah, right. A giggle escaped your throat-- what a ludicrous joke! And Meteor City being _massacred?_ The people there may be described as many things, but weak was not one of them.

"Listen Chrollo, I bet you're a smart guy or whatever, but Arkot would never hurt a fly! I mean, look at him! Little dude can’t even tie his own shoes!” You stifled a laugh.

"His eyes only turn red when he feels strong emotions, yes? Whenever he feels endangered? Listen Y/n, maybe Arkot is a special case." His vision shifted away from you, training on the sleeping boy's figure, "I assume that he has lived in Meteor City his whole life? He wasn't raised by those monsters; perhaps he'll reject their ways? Only time will tell... I trust that you'll be able to supervise him." He spoke softly, eyes finding their way back to you. His eyes practically glowing a soft gray as they bore into your own-- a seemingly genuine look of concern flashing across his face as he stared.

_He... He's being honest._ You summarized, forehead creasing in worry and fear for Arkot and yourself. 

"But... If they're so dangerous, why do you wanna go after them?" You cocked your head in confusion, "I thought you guys were just thieves..."

"Ah, you wound me. The spider isn't as bad as you perceive us to, Y/n-Chan. We aren't the villains you see us as." He spoke, "Don't worry too much. You've taken care of him well-- he seems like a well-behaved child. I believe in him... I believe in you." Chrollo tightly smirked, his inky hair shifting in the light breeze.

"Ah." 

“...You’ve been wondering why I took you in, correct?”

”Yes.”

Silence emitted in the room, the only noise being Arkot’s even breaths as he soundly slept.

”...You know... I see potential in you, little mouse.”

Chrollo beamed, the grin that split his face brilliant enough to rival the crescent moon. You tilted your head to the side, favoring him with an inquisitive glance, tone a mixture of amusement, uncertainty, and an underlying tone of annoyance 

”...Hm.” _-the fuck is he talking about?_

* * *

It had been two weeks since that night in the hotel, and your thoughts had still mottled with cautiousness and puzzlement. The Phantom Troupe had more or less been kind to you, opting to leave you and Arkot to your own devices while they planned their invasion of Kurta Clan, which was due to happen the following morning.

”Don’t worry, Y/n. We will not kill them, only reason with them. If things go haywire, we shall leave.” Chrollo had calmed reassured when you approached him about your concerns. You didn’t want any blood to fall on the kind man’s hand unnecessarily.

”Would you like me to come? I would enjoy seeing the scenery-“

”No, that is not necessary. The fewer people that attend, the better.” He cut you off, smiling good-naturedly, “Although, it would be helpful if Arkot would accompany us. He _does_ share the same eye deformity after all. Perhaps they’d be at ease if they saw when of their own.”

You furrowed your brow, not liking the sound of Arkot being dragged into the territory of murderous fiends. The young boy had grown more comfortable over the week, opting to cling to Pakunoda’s side. You heaved a sigh, shoulders slumped when you looked towards the makeshift “bedroom” that was built for both Arkot and yourself. 

It was decorated in the same haphazard (and vaguely dangerous-looking) style as the rest of the musty room, baubles, and curious instruments hanging on to every available surface. There was a hastily-built kitchen upon the opposite side of the room too, crammed in the corner, along with a table and a few cluttered bookshelves. Piles of books radiated out from the shelves like skirts. It lacked an oven and stove, the only source of heating food being a cheap microwave.

Arkot sat upon the futon next to the blonde woman, seemingly fiddling with her lighter with a smile playing at the corner of his lips. A flame ignited from the tip, shocking the boy as he hastily chucked the instrument against the wall. Pakunoda pinched the bridge of her nose as she shook her head in disappointment.

A heavy hand landed on your shoulder, pulling you out of your trance.

”He will be safe, little mouse. I can promise you that.” Chrollo spoke, his face twisted in worry for you.

Stupid, it was stupid, how that made you feel. So warm and good, to be reassured so kindly. You were sorry that he had worried after you, but you couldn’t help but feel so touched by it: he cared for you. You didn’t really know whether he was concerned for you specifically, or because he wanted to take the little boy that he would have greeted anyone close to him with the same enthusiasm. But that uncertainty did not in any way diminish how good it felt, to see him comfort you again. To see how _perturbed_ you were able to make him feel.

“...Only if he’s okay with it.”

"Brilliant! I'll speak to him in a moment."

You hummed in response, your focus fleeting as it usually did.

You walked towards the kitchen. The table was strewn with diagrams and maps, notes scrawled in Nobunaga’s illegible hand, and several of the books Shalnark had “borrowed” from a public library, opened to passages that might be of help to them. But for the moment, you were focusing on the drawings that littered the margins of books (although ‘drawings’ was a bit of a generous description) from the dissections the Troupe observed that past week. 

You brushed off the seat of a chair, gingerly placing yourself atop it as you reached for a random novel that sat perched upon the workspace.

_“The Dino Hunter”_

A gasp seized your throat as you stared at the title of the book. You recognize this book! Your ~~**_father_**~~ mother used to read you this story every night! You smiled fondly at the memory, a warm feeling enrapturing you as you flipped to the first page.

_Why the hell would they need a children’s book for a diplomatic visit I-_

Your eyes eagerly scanned the page. Each word you read made your heart flutter as you reminisced your childhood.

* * *

You sat there, reading, for what felt like hours. Though “read” might be too strong a word. Your eyes had glazed over the same sentence three times already; hadn’t turned a page in five minutes. 

You sighed, bringing your hands to your eyes, rubbing them as if that would be enough to banish the sleep that so dearly wished to claim you.

“Nee-chan,” soft-spoken to you in the darkness behind your eyelids, the only warning you had before he reached out and placed his hand, gently, on you shoulder. “Me and the rest of the Troupe are leaving now. You’ll be fine on your own, right?”

You frowned, deeply, still not liking the sound of Arkot leaving you behind.

“Oh, yeah,” you lied, pulling your hands from your eyes to meet his gaze. How endearing—he looked concerned. “I’ll be excellent,” you added, in an attempt to convince him. “Don’t miss me too much, yeah?”

By the look he was giving you he didn’t buy it, eyebrow arched in suspicion, a wry smile on his lips. He saw right through him. Though it probably wasn’t hard: He knew you wore your concern on your face, exhaustion and worry clear in the purple bags beneath your eyes.

”Maybe you should take a nap. You look like your about to pass out-“

”Sleep is for the weak, buddy. Wait, dude, I found this book that I used to read all the time! Oh my goodness, you’re gonna love it— It’s called Dino Hunter and-“

“Oh, I’ve heard of hunters! You can show me once I get back, okay?”

”Ah... Okay.” Your lips quirked down upon hearing that. Oh well— It should only take a couple hours. And you really could use the sleep.

”Bye, Y/n! I love you!”

”I love you too, buddy! Have fun or whatever.” You waved at him, heaving yourself up and lethargically waking to the futon. 

You suddenly felt a pair of tiny arms wrap around your waist and pull you into a hug. You opened your mouth to say something witty, but opted not to when you felt him push his head into your back. You gingerly loosed yourself from his touched and kneeled to eye level.

”...”

”...”

Arkot shoved his head into the crook of your neck, speaking comfort there as he usually does. You ran your hands through his curly, black hair, now devoid of grease. A grin slowly formed onto your face and you pull him closer against your body.

”Be careful, alright.”

”Okay...”

And you let him go.

* * *

_...it is quieter here… there is no storm, no wind or rain… a tide pushes (a hand on the back) inward and onto feet. beneath them: sand, pink. like guava flesh. and above…? stars, brightly, dancing in milky swirls of far off galaxies, heavens of another world. and the sea spray glows… brightly, too. as the blood stains on the walls, as in the… … the old apartment. hmm._

_one day I would kneel before the ocean on a luminescent shore and beg contrition in front of my father, like the believers in their temples_

_as adequate as any god: he reaches up and plucks something bright out of the heavens a bead of silver on his fingertip when he lowers it shining like mercury._

_he presses the finger into the knot of my throat, the crossroads where clavicle meets sternum meets—_

_and i feel relief._

**“-ake up!”**

Your eyes shoot open in surprise as your body tenses. Jesus, what a weird dream-

“Y/n!”

You turn to look at source of the distressed cry.

You’re greeted with the sight of Pakunoda covered head to toe in blood. 

“It’s Arkot! He’s hurt-“


	7. {end of prologue}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: death, disturbing imagery 
> 
> ouch uhh this one kinda hurt to write lol i wanted to keep it as short and sweet as possible tho so i hope that translated well
> 
> uhhhh anyway the prologue is officially over :)

_What?_

”Y/n! You need to hurry, please! He asked to see you, and-“

_He’s what?_

“-he’s bleeding out! Please, you need to see him!”

_**Bleeding out?** _

Pakunoda grasped your hand, lifting you to your feet and dragging you to an isolated room inside of the building.

_It’s warm. And it’s wet._

You glanced down to where your body was connected to the tall woman’s, eyes widening at the slight of a red substance.

_What?_

Chrollo stands in the middle of the room, cradling a bundle of blankets splattered with blood. The rest of the troupe is absent. 

_What is this?_

The bundle whimpers and shifts.

_Ar-_

“-Kot!”

Chrollo set him down on a sheet.

_What-_

“-happened?!”

“...”

_What?_

You towered over Arkot’s hissing figure, breath caught in your throat as you look at your little brother.

_His eyes are-_

“M-missing? **_What happened to his eyes?”_**

”A kurtan attacked him when I was saving Machi... He stated that traitors don’t deserve to share the same eyes as their nation... I’m sorry.”

A tear rolled down your cheek.

What? What? _What? What? **What? What? What? ~~What~~?**_ _ **This isn’t real This can’t be real. ~~Gods, please don’t LETTHISBEREAL-~~**_

“..nee-chan...”

”He... will not survive. I apologize, Y/n” Chrollo whispered in your ear.

Once that first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream. You bent forward where you sat on the floor and pressing your palms to the sheet, you began to sob with the force of a person vomiting on all fours.

”I.. will give you privacy.” 

Chrollo left.

The end is near—Arkot knows it without having to be told, without needing to hear whatever it was that Chrollo whispered to Y/n moments before that set her sobbing so pitifully. He could feel his life waning then, like the moon turning its face away from the earth, slipping into darkness. But Arkot does not cry, not yet. He had done what he set out to do: he had ensured Y/n’s safety by paying the ultimate price. And if you wanted to sob over a little boy you had known for over a dozen or so evenings, at most—no matter how bright and useful that child is, as Arkot surely opposes—that’s your prerogative, and Arkot knows that nothing he can do or say will console his sister. Everyone mourns in their own way, and for as long as he has known Y/n (not long _enough_ ), Arkot has known her to be transparent as glass with her emotions.

He knows this is the end by the pained wails you give— by the shakiness of your voice— by the trembling of your hands as they desperately grasp at him.

He does not know this by the way your face twists in pain. By the way you claw at your hair. By the way you draw your own blood.

”Y/n,” he choked on his blood, “y/n, it’s okay.”

”O-of course, it is! I’ll h-help you!”

”Y/n.”

”...”

”You have a kind heart, but you mustn’t show such mercy to those you’ve just met.”

He shakily leans closer to your ear.

”Do not forget what has happened to me. The Kurta are kind people— I heard their screams of terror as they begged for their lives... as my eyes were being torn out by the woman with pink hair.”

“W-what-“

”Escape from he-“

A hand landed on your shoulder.

Chrollo had returned.

”Poor boy must be delirious.” Chrollo denoted, dark bangs covering his eyes, as his grip tightens on your shoulder. 

A sad smile crossed Arkot’s face as his head sunk into your lap. If only he could gaze at you once more... but he does not regret giving up his vision for the one person who ever truly cared for him. 

And he is content with that conclusion.


	8. ➶ zephyr ➴

_“nee-chan...”_

_..._

_”a-arkot?”_

_”...”_

_”...ototo-kun.. where are we?”_

_”we are in york new city.”_

_”...no we aren’t... arkot... where are you?”_

_”...I’m right here, y/n. cant you see me? i cant see you.”_

_i turn around, unnatural pink sand shifting beneath my feet as i glance down at the dwarfed figure._

_he stands before me; a bandana obstructing his vision as his black hair danced in the wind._

_“nee-chan. i cant see you. please help me, y/n. please.”_

“...”

_i frantically kneel down, hastily untying the bandana that covered his eyes._

_my breath hitched when i saw it._

_“nee-chan... where did my eyes go? who took my eyes? i cant see, nee-chan, where are they, **please**?”_

_his bright eyes are now gone— two black holes taking their place._

_”...”_

_”y/n.”_

_..._

_“why did you do this to me? why did you let this happen?”_

_”arkot-“_

_”im dead because of you, y/n, cant you see?”_

_”arkot-!”_

_his eye sockets begin leaking blood at an alarming rate._

_”you failed me, y/n. my blood is on your hands.”_

_”wait, **please i-im sorry** -“_

_~~“nee-chan... why did you kill me?~~ _ _~~nee-chan... you’ve forgotten me, haven’t you?”~~ _

_**what? no, i— i didn’t kill you** _

_**no please not again i hate it when you say that i cant stand it please-** _

* * *

You gasp into wakefulness, the sound as soft as snow falling upon snow, shaking free from tree branches in the shape of a phantom. 

But you are not on the pink sandy beach, light breeze drifting through your hair: you are in your bedroom. It must be early. The light from the window is soft, predawn blue. 

A sigh escaped your lips.

It is not the first time you’ve been tormented by this particular nightmare, but the repetitions only make it more ominous. With every passing year, the gaps in your memory only seem to widen, that wealth of lost knowledge and experience like a dragon hoard too closely guarded to plunder. 

Always, the dream has been the same. Within it you can feel a reservoir of great nen at your disposal: you are little more than intent and starfire, your skin and flesh an afterthought. Though you have never felt this way while waking, you know it means you are at the apex of your power. You can feel nen pushing and pulling like a roaring tide.

You were starting to _forget_ him.

Five years, it had been, since you had joined the Phantom Troupe. Though “joined” might be too strong a word. You had yet to receive a number or even a tattoo. When it was revealed that Omokage had deceived the lot of you, a spot was left open, and you had practically begged Chrollo to let you fill the void; Instead, he chose to hire a _fucking pedophile._

A shudder runs down your spine whenever you think about your first encounter with that clown fucker two years ago.

” _Hey, I’m Y/n! Uh, what’s your name?”_

_”Hmm... Yes, I know you, N/n-chan~ I’m called Hisoka. Your winds seem practically... powerful... Perhaps, you would be willing to try it on yours truly?~”_

_”Uhh, what-“_

_”OooooH! Just hearing your voice gets me excited~”_

_”Dude, I’m 13!“_

You groggily rose up from your place on the bed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. The grey floor tiles were cold as ice against the soles of your feet. You summoned a breeze to sweep through the small dwelling with the intent to wake yourself up a bit; you shivered, then crossed the room to the closet. In the dimness of the room, your eyes could barely tell the difference between the blazers and coats hanging within. Instead, you brushed your fingers against each garment, trying to discern by the texture of the fabric which clothes were yours. 

Your hand closed onto the sleeve of a familiar texture. Pulling it out, your eyes landed on a kunoichi outfit. The sleek burgundy fabric sat in your hands; the silkiness a welcomed presence. You tossed it on the bed, intending to get a better look. It consisted of hort-like pants matched with a short-sleeved uwagi, an obi sash tied around the uwagi into an exaggerated bow on the back meant to be worn around the waist, and an obijime is tied over it. The gold trim really did compliment the dark garnet, didn’t it?

_Chrollo’s been begging me to wear this for months now... Might as well, I guess? Ugh, it kinda looks like Komacine’s outfit though..._

You and Machi had quite a complicated relationship. She was the one to convince Chrollo that you weren’t ready to be an official part of the Troupe, much to your and Nobunaga’s displeasure.

_**“She’s not ready. She’ll probably end up killing one of us, Danchou. Wait for a couple of years or something.”** _

It's not that you held anything against her-- she just wanted to ensure everyone's safety. But, you couldn't help but feel a bit saddened by it. When Arkot had... left, Machi had, uncharacteristically, been a welcoming presence, a shoulder to cry on of sorts. Arkot's last message to you was fallacious, Chrollo had said, stating that he was simply being delusional, that he hadn’t a thought left in that childlike brain of his.

You shook your head, willing the thoughts away. There was no time to second guess yourself; if you wanted to show Chrollo your new party trick, you’d better hurry before he leaves for who knows how long.

_Ugh, he better be here..._

You had finally managed to channel your _Zephyr_ (which you decided to dub it) into everyday use, rather than it being a deadly weapon that ~~murdered your father~~ broke both of Shalnark’s arms (he found it rather funny while you were apologizing profusely). And today, as you said, you were full to bursting with aura, like sap springing from the bark of a maple tree.

You hurriedly got dressed, shoving your rapier into its scabbard and tucking it through your obijime, excited to see the look on your nen master’s face. 

You had always liked a challenge—especially the kind that involved sneaking around—but you met no resistance as you wander through the halls, making your way down to the lower floors. The hideout was usually devoid of activity, especially since the troupe hadn’t met up in about a year. You walk about barefoot, as you are, and still not to be stopped by your legal(?) guardian. You half expected him to appear out of thin air, reprimanding you for “being so careless with your health”.

A frown graced your face when you still hadn’t seen any signs of life in the vacant building.

_Fucking kleptomaniac must be shoplifting at Walmart again..._

You subconsciously reached for your pocket, looking for the phone that had shattered into pieces just a month prior. A sigh of frustration escaped your lips as you remembered.

_Well, it won’t hurt to try it, I guess._

Cupping your hands around your mouth, you breathed aura into your closed fist. 

“ _Chrollo, where are you_?” you murmur into the small ball of swirling nen, “ _I’m fucking bored- Come home soon, alright? I’ve got something to show you! Oh, and can you get me a new phone? Thanks! This is Y/n, by the way- Wait, you already know that uhhhh- Okay, bye!”_

You released the miniature whirlwind, mentally commanding it to find its way to your master.

_“Where-“ “Bored-“ “Chrollo!” “Home-“_

Your voice echoed from the puff of air, overlapping each word. And just like that, it zoomed out of the already-dilapidated window towards an unknown destination.

You tugged on your boots, a smile tugging at your lips as your mind ran through new ways to utilize _Zephyr._

You still hadn’t figured out a way for the recipient to send a _Wind Whisper_ back to the dispatcher, but Chrollo had encouraged you to give up, stating that it would take up a significant amount of memory space. He was probably right, as he usually is, but that didn’t mean that you liked it.

_"Master knows best,"_ he’d say, " _This is for your own good, little mouse."_

Perhaps, after seeing how you’ve honed your Zephyr, he will finally let you start the search for your mother. No matter how many times you’ve tried to convince him to let you go, you’ve always been shut down.

A groan sounded from your throat as you recalled your most recent attempt.

_“I could just find her for you, Y/n.”_

_“I know! But it’d be way more special if I did it myself. So, can I go? All I need to do is get a hunter's license, and I’ll find her so fast! Trust m-“_

_”That’s enough. How many times must I tell you that you aren’t prepared for the Hunter Exam? You haven’t even been on an expedition with the Troupe yet. Patience, little mouse. I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense. Now... continue practicing **shu** andenshroud your rapier with aura-“_

“Got your message! Those _Wind Whispers_ of yours sure have gotten faster, haven’t they?”

You turned with a start, a small smile working on your face.

”Where were you? Shoplifting from Hot Topic or something?”

The tall, raven-haired man smirked at your jab as he jumped from his position on the window frame.

”It was actually Walmart this time!” ( _Of course, it was)_ He playful defended, “I got you your phone, though I may have dropped a few times on the way here..”

“Hey!” you commanded your _Zephyr_ to shoot your cell phone out of his hands towards you, and you caught it with exaggerated gusto, ”You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

”Oh, N/n-chan! You wound me..” Chrollo theatrically placed his hand upon his forehead in a mockingly melancholy way, “Ooo, is that what you wanted to show me? You can grab things with your winds now? Remarkable! Turns out I’m not coaching an idiot after all!” He pats your head while smiling smugly.

”Hey! What’s that supposed to m-“

”Anyways,” he announced, flopping onto the musty couch, “Do you have any plans today?”

“Well, actually... You know what the date is, right?”

”January 3? Yes, I’m aware of the date, Y/n.” He deadpanned.

”Well... TheHunterExamStartsInFourDaysAndIAlreadySignedUpAndIWantToGoTo-“

”Slow down, little mouse!”

“I said,” you gulped, “The Hunter Exam starts in four days, and I already signed up for it... I was thinking that I could, um... visit York New City before it starts?”

”...”

”...”

”Absolutely not.”

”B-but, _why,_ Chrollo _?_ I can take care of myself— You should know this by now!”

He sat up, all rambunctiousness leaving his face as his eyes bore into yours.

”Because I said so.”

”That... That’s not _fair-“_

”For the last time, It doesn’t matter if it’s fair. I am your master, in fact, I’m your guardian. The least you could do is respect my wishes.”

“That doesn’t make it fair, master!”

He laughed, and you instantly hated him for it. The sound of his laugh was bright, unaffected, a loud and ugly guffaw, one of the most hilarious and ridiculous sounds you had ever heard a human being make. This fact registered just about everywhere within you especially in your heart, where the sound of the thief’s laugh only made the treacherous organ pound faster with anger.

"Oh, so we're using formalities now," he chortled, eyes softening slightly, "That won't work, Y/n. You should know this by now."

”But-“

”No buts. Perhaps you should contact Franklin? I’m sure he’d be intrigued by your new trick!”

This—his little avoidance—is almost enough to break your control over yourself, to send you into a rage. But your voice is still level when you speak, an acceptable volume, even your tone turns steely. “Chrollo, I’ve been dreaming this for years. I’m ready.” You punctuate this point with a hard look, meeting his eyes for the first time that morning. “Why don’t you believe in me?”

Your master holds your eyes as long as he can bear before he casts them upon this hands. “Listen, little mouse. Of course, I have faith in you. But you haven’t completely honed your potential— Just let me help you.”

“Help me?” you reply, flatly. That seems unlikely— he leaves your home for months at a time, barely contacting you while gone. Assisting you is definitely not a priority.

He narrowed his eyes, immediately knowing what you were thinking, “Come now, Y/n,” he softly spoke, “We both know that you wouldn't dare defy me. You're too much of an obedient child.”

And at that, the wood of the dam _groans_ , the flood and the tempest of anger and hurt straining against the gates you had constructed to hold them back. (Tempest tossed by fear, _obedient child, what—_ )But by the look on Chrollo’s face—glancing lazily to the side—he knows it’s coming. He’s spent enough time with you by now to know that a storm was brewing within you.

You could feel your nen sparking at your fingertips, a light breeze drifting through your h/c hair.

_Stop this right now,’_ you thought to yourself, trying to calm down, twisting the toe of your boot in the concrete like you were snuffing out a spark. _‘You don’t know the first thing about Chrollo. You’re too smart to let down your guard because of his antics, you’re in danger of losing time the longer you remain in this building–‘_

Your words are a hiss: “Obedient child? _You must see me as a stranger if you refer to me as such_.”

“View you as a stranger?” Chrollo repeats, weighing the shape of those words in his mouth, his tone wry, “I’ve practically raised you for the past 5 years. I’ve given up a part of my youth for _you._ How could you say such a thing?”

”Me? How could _I_ say such a thing?” you clap back, as naturally as thunder follows lightning, “You just infantilized me-“

Chrollo’s interruption is quiet, calm, but pointed. “You acting out like this proves my point. You aren’t prepared for the real world.”

_“I was in the “real world” for four years of my childhood!_ ” Potential, vigor, and the font of your nen clear: your voice rings with rage, and control slips from your hands as it used to do. “I cared for myself in Meteor City as a child— dodging the advances of disgusting adults trying to sell me, fending for myself against _murders,_ and you still don’t think I’ve seen the horrors that this world has to offer?!”

Chrollo’s grey eyes narrow, darken, a sky as dusk settles. “You seem to forget that Meteor City is a completely different world. I rescued you from that. It’s best not to dwell on the past, Y/n. It will only bring pain.”

You didn’t even bother to hold back your anger anymore. The light breeze that flew through your hair soon turned into a personal whirlwind of sorts. Your tresses swirled upwards as your clothing wrinkled.

”Bring pain? Chrollo, I can't let go of the people I’ve left behind, can't you see? My mother, my _father_ — Arkot! _I don’t care if it hurts! I just need to know!”_ You announced, anguish choking you _, “You couldn’t even save Arkot! The least you can do is let me do this...”_

_Ah. So this is what immediate regret feels like._

Chrollo's usually handsome features morphed into ones of venom, “Your father? Y/n, dearest, you murdered your father. You are no better than me.”

The silence that engulfed the room was deafening, the only sounds being the ripples of movement from the cloth of your kunoichi. Chrollo narrowed his eyes, an unimpressed expression gracing his face.

”Just drop this, Y/n. Before you regret it.”

_Fuck regret. Fuck Chrollo. Fuck **everything**._

_**”How can you call yourself a leader if you can’t do something as simple as protecting a child?”** _

“Y/n. This is your last chance. _Stop_.”

“The only thing you're good for is thievery. Do you even have your own personality? _Or did you steal that too?”_

~ _Floosh_ ~ He drew his Ben’s Knife. 

_I’ve hit a nerve._

“At least I’m smart enough not to trust murderous strangers with a helpless little boy.” He uncharacteristically growled, rising to his feet to intimidate you.

~~_**What is that supposed to mean?** _ ~~

You unsheathed your rapier, seeing red.

”Alright then, _Danchou._ Let’s see if your homicidal reputation really does proceed you.”

You lunged forward, quickly sprinting towards the tall man with gusto, then thrust out your sword in an attempt to disarm him, but, due to his astonishingly fast reflexes, he bowed then jumped forwards, trying to cleave your legs. You only noticed this at the last second, quickly propelling yourself into the air with the help of your winds. He shot at you, but this time, you were more than prepared. You recalled Nobunaga’s words of wisdom years ago;

_“If you can’t play offense, play defense. Remember; parry, parry, thrust. Don’t be stupid.”_

You raised your rapier in an act of fortification and the two blades clanged together, creating a rumbling echo through the vacant room. The weight of your sword was dragging you down, but with a burst of strength, you soon recovered and pushed back hard. Chrollo, noticing the sudden burst of energy, pounced back.

“Why are you holding back, little mouse?” He purred, “You surely weren’t this angry when Arkot died in your arms. Give me all you've got."

_**”What the hell is wrong with you?!”** _

You felt your aura grow tenfold, anger completely blinding you.

You sprang behind Chrollo, too fast for him to even register. He staggered back, not knowing where you had gone. His back met your chest, and he shot around, prepared to summon _Bandit’s_ _Secret_ , but before he had the chance to concentrate, you pounded the back of his head with the butt of your rapier. He stood there, dazed for a moment. But before he had the chance to recover, you stepped between his legs from behind to trip him while shoving him directly to the hard ground.

You stood above him, sword lightly digging into the soft flesh of his left cheek.

His steely grey eyes bore into your e/c ones, glinting in amusement. Chrollo's usually slicked back hair was askew, going every which way.

”Tell me, _Danchou_ , why did you hold back? You know I love a good challenge.”

A smug smile grew onto his face as he stared up at you, amusement legible on his face.

”You truly are interesting, little mouse.”

You shoved the sword deeper into his cheek, slowly dragging down.

”What really happened to my little brother?”

His smile only grew.

”I was incorrect. Perhaps, I am teaching an idiot. You know the answer to that question, _little mouse_. Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

” ** _Enough_**.”

Your rapier slashed across his face, blood dripping from the tip. You turned the sword upwards, the butt of it smashing into Chrollo’s nose as he _let_ himself pass out _._

And with that, you escaped your home.

* * *

Oh shit- Oh shit- Oh shit- oh **shit** \- He’s definitely tailing you, probably hot on your heels at this point!

What the fuck were you _thinking?_ Picking a fight with Chrollo Lucilfer of all people! Oh, he’s definitely contacted the Troupe by now. 

_He... Lied to me. Did Machi really..._

During the day, under the sun, the desert was blisteringly hot; the sands would scorch the soles of the feet of anyone foolish enough to step onto them at high noon without shoes. The heat shimmered along the curves of the dunes like a reflection over disturbed water. It was unwise to venture outside without a broad hat or a white scarf to protect against the heat and the light. You had nothing of the sort.

You had been running nonstop for hours, scared of what would become of you if you stopped. 

But the sand cooled in the evening just as rapidly as it warmed to the dawn, and the abrupt drop in temperature sends the desert winds howling across the plains, whistling between the buttes, chasing the warmth of the day. In the dead of night, the desert could be frigid. The moment your body finally gave up on running and collapsed, you could see your breath in the air, a clean puff catching starlight before the wind snatched it away. You wrapped your arms tighter around your shoulders. Moments like this made you wish that you knew who to regulate the temperature of a breeze.

You did not know where to go. You didn’t have any jenny—Chrollo didn’t really seem to give credence to the idea of currency, always believing that if one wanted something, they should steal it from Gods-knew-where. You did not know where you would stay the night, whether you would be able to sneak or beg your way into an inn or whether you would sleep on the streets.

But for now, you only dropped into the grass of a nearby oasis, happy to watch the dawn as it lit up the city. You felt an adventure beginning, the thought as invigorating as a chill morning breeze. Below you was everything Chrollo had tried to keep from you; below was the repository of all your hopes and fantasies of the last nine years. Who you had been. Who you would become. All of your answers. York New should only be an hour's walk from here.

For now, though, the feeling of the wind was enough.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> clarification if any of y’all are confused:
> 
> zephyr just gives you the ability to control/create wind. mc is an emitter, but they also use manipulator techniques to control wind that naturally exists. 
> 
> oh! and chrollo may seem a bit OOC but that’s completely intentional ;)


	9. ➶ inauguration➴

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring: A shamelessly cheesy Howl’s Moving Castle reference lmao

_York New City_. There was something so natural about the way the glittering municipality sat, as though it were as intrinsic to the landscape as the sand that lined the coast. You supposed that this was because you had grown up here; that, even if you could barely remember your time in the city, the view of it in the morning tickled the splinters of your shattered past, made the way that York New sat in the landscape as familiar to you as your own skin. The bustling metropolis had called to you, through your dreams, through your _nen_ , despite all of Chrollo’s efforts to keep you from it.

Now— _at last!_ —you were here. You were home.

  
This strange sense of homecoming, however, did not divest you of your caution. Outside the “gates”, before entering the city, you had mentally prepared yourself, just in case.

Admittedly, doing so made you feel a little silly. You had come to York New City to reconnect with your lost life, your _mother_ , and yet you were going to return to it with an erroneous age, the face of a teenage stranger. This felt like capitulation, an early admission of defeat, an acknowledgment (however small) that perhaps Chrollo had been right to warn you against coming here. But you had been unable to keep from your mind the suspicion that whomever it was that your master was desperately trying to keep you from, they were likely to be found in the city you were now approaching.

You had come to a wide plaza, framed on each of its four sides by massive buildings, but dominated by the edifice in the east. It was the terminus of many aqueduct arcades, arching bridges that carried fresh water down into the city from some hidden source on the hill, nearer to the palace. Where these arcades met, a large structure had been erected, dominated by a massive clock, and towers domed in muted colors. The facade beneath the clock face was punctuated by a succession of small pipes, through which the aqueduct water then passed. As it fell the water dazzled, brilliant ribbons of light casting gems of reflected sun back across the plaza. The mist coming off the falls left the plaza cooler than the surrounding streets from which you had come. On each corner of the building stood the classical allegories of Justice and Victory, with Justice’s scales and Victory’s wings embellished with gold.

You had come, you realized, to the most affluent area of the city; even at this hour, the central square was busy with activity, citizens passing between districts, running errands. Although you vaguely remember your life in this metropolis, you were fairly certain that you lived in more of a.. challenged area.

_Well, this won’t do... How am I supposed to find someone shady-looking here?_

A sharp pang of pain erupted from your stomach. How long had it been since you’ve eaten? Two days? All you knew was that it’s time to get some breakfast.

You pranced atop the sidewalks, eyes scanning each passing store in hopes of finding food. You wandered through the streets, weaving through each road— the buildings got shorter, and the infrastructure dilapidated. Citizens still bustled upon the busy streets, tourists being conned out of loads of jenny— it was a familiar environment to you.

"Get your fresh bagels here! Only five jenny a piece!" A large man with an oddly shaped hat jousted from across the street.

Your hands dug into your pockets, looking for even the smallest amount of jenny-- no luck. A sigh left your lips as you eyed the concession stand. 

_Well, stealing one little bagel won't be that hard, right? It_ has _been a couple of years since I've done something like this..._

You stared down at the man, swiftly thinking of the best way to fill your stomach without hurting him in the process. A lightbulb went off in your head as genius struck you. Your gazed burned into the man as you gently summoned your _Zephyr._ A strong gust of wind emitted off of you, knocking the man off his feet. He yelped, running after his peculiar headpiece. 

_Oops... might have overdone that._

You shot towards the cart containing the baked goods, faster than the strongest of gales, your mouth watering in anticipation.

A hand encircled your wrist, as soon as the wind shot your prize into your hand. You yelped, not expecting your mission to be hijacked. Your head shot around, ready to shout curses at the damned person who thwarted your plans.

(e/c) eyes met stormy grey.

Blond tresses like sunbeams shining through parting clouds on a gloomy day sat upon his head, tousled in the wind, eyes wide with wonder as he gazed intently into yours.

“How did you do that..?”

”Stop! Thief!”

_Shit_.

* * *

Kurapika Kurta didn’t know what to expect on his last day in York New City. Maybe the usual stragglers, idiotic tourists, or even a rat eating slice of pizza— But he certainly didn’t anticipate seeing a teenage girl _summon a bagel._

He didn't know why she had caught his eye. Perhaps it was her oddly traditional clothing, or perhaps it was simply the way she held herself— but something drew him towards her, like a moth to a flame. 

He sat perched at an outdoor dining table, enjoy his omelet as he mentally prepared himself for the exam. He ran his hands through his hair, eyes shut tight in stress.

That’s when he felt it-- A snug pressure wrapping around him; unpredictable and sudden as it felt, Kurapika did not feel a sense of trepidation— instead, he felt _exhilarated,_ exuberantone might say!

His eyes immediately trailed in her direction, eyes widening when her (h/c) hair seemed to elevate in the light breeze that had suddenly appeared.

Her (e/c) eyes seemed vacant as they trained on the nearby vendor. Suddenly they widened, a mischievous glint appearing in her eyes as a strong gale of wind swept past the marketplace, leaving his tabard to swing in the breeze.

The Kurta’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked down, perplexed.

_Did she just-_

No. That’s utter nonsense. There’s no way a teenage girl would be able to _control_ the wind. Perhaps he should stay in York New for another night... It seems like he needs the rest.

He shook his head, silently berating himself for such a childish thought. Slowly, his gaze returned to her.

_What? Where is she?_

Kurapika’s head shot around, confusion filling him as searched. A flash of burgundy flew past his peripheral vision.

The next few moments were a blur.

A smirk grew on her face as a _bagel flew into her hand._

His body went on autopilot— grabbing her wrist and holding her in place.

Stormy grey eyes met (e/c).

Her hair whipped around her face as the wind tousled her (h/c) tresses. Her eyebrow knit in disdain as she glared at the blond.

“How did you do that..?”

”Stop! Thief!”

_Oh, dear._

* * *

A soft breeze graced the air, but you barely had the chance to appreciate it before the blond guy’s hand was closing tighter around your wrist, briskly leading you to an alley. Wordlessly, you followed him. The two of you broke into a run. 

“Who the _fuck_ are you?” You hissed, speeding up when you heard the sound of footsteps trailing the two of you.

”Well, that’s not very polite-“

”Hush!”

”C-can’t you just.. blow him away?!” He wheezed, face flushing at the rude tone you addressed him with.

”I would! But, I’m really not in the mood to kill anyone right now!" you chuckled, "Plus, this is kinda fun!”

“K-kill-? Gods, what is happening?!”

”Shut up, pretty boy!”

“Excuse me-!”

You had turned to watch the chaos behind you. For a man of his build, he surely was quite fast, wasn’t he? He was closing in on the two of you!

”All this for a fucking bagel? Gods, this city is embarrassing!” You mutter, your gaze shifting towards the boy next to you. You briefly thought about leaving him behind— he would only slow you down after all, but your conscience bore weight in you. A sigh left your lips as you decided to string him along for the ride.

_The things I do for good karma..._

Your arm encircled the blond’s waist, pulling him taunt against your body.

“Hold on tight!”

“What!?” He squeaked, stopping abruptly as he tried to shake away from your hold.

”Ugh, you sure ask a lot of questions, don’t you? I said hold on!”

His lithe fingers shakily dug into your side. You smiled at him, silently thanking him for playing along.

You soundlessly commanded _Zephyr_ to take reign of the winds whipping around you.

With an exaggerated flourish, you jumped from your place on the ground, teenage boy in tow. The wind whipped around the two of you, your hair flying askew as you let out a loud cackle. The breeze shoved you forward, urging you to continue your descent through the sky.

_“What is happening-?”_

The two of you weightlessly waltzed through the air. Though, “two of you” maybe be an overstatement. The stranger clutched at your side was clinging to you like a lifeline, knees pulled to his chest in a fetal position. A small chuckle left your throat as you addressed him.

”It’s okay— You’ve just got to yield your body to the wind. I'll take care of the rest!” You sweetly said, gently rousing him from his position. "Oh, and by the way, if you keep tugging on me like that, I'll lose control! You wouldn't want to slam into a building, going 200 miles an hour, would you?"

He stared at you for a moment, desperately trying to scan your face of any malintent. His hands on your waist loosened as he let himself trust you. 

“There you go. Don't be afraid.” 

His hand clasped yours tightly, 

_Better make this quick. I feel like I’m going puke-_ You thought, reminding yourself that overexerting your nen would lead to terrible consequences. 

”How... How are you doing this? This is remarkable!”

_Zephyr_ gently faded away, leaving the two of you to land on the roof of a random building. The boy fell to his knees, gasping out a breath.

“I’m the one who should be asking the questions here.” you seethed, personality doing a 180 as you stared him down. “Who the hell are you-?”

A nagging thought appeared in your head. _What if Chrollo had sent him?_

Immediately, your confidence slipped—you flickered. Your fear snuffed out your nen out like a candle. You panicked; you reached for the wisps of that fading wind and seized it, regaining control of your power just in time. Your breathing turned shallow; you hardly dared to move as you stared at the boy. Your aura had barely even stabilized yet, but you were prepared to protect yourself if need be.

He gaped at you incredulously, grin falling from his face as he realized that you weren’t kidding.

”W-what are you?!“

”Stop changing the subject; Who are you?”

When he looked up at you, grey eyes narrowed as he huffed. He nodded to the midsection of your body. “... You tied your obijime wrong.”

“I’m sure it will manage just fine like this.”

“Maybe, but not aesthetically,” he conceded as he stood, folding his arms tightly over his chest. The light pressure of wind that remained on his back intensified; he stared at you apprehensively. “Is this—was that magic? Are you a witch?”

You did not like his tone. “That’s none of your concern.”

He stiffened, body tensing. “I’ve found a witch _and_ a thief. In the same day.” He spoke, a quiver in his voice. He chortled in spite of himself. “The plot thickens. I’m ashamed to say that I’m rather intrigued by you.”

“I’m not sure I believe you have a sense of shame, after the way you grabbed me so suddenly in the street. And I’m not a _witch_! Now, w _ho are you?”_

His face flushed at your words as his mouth opened then closed, trying to form a defense. “I didn’t mean it in an inappropriate manner-... I-I am called Kurapika.”

You drew your rapier, ever sharp and strong. 

You were on him in an instant, your foot against his chest pinning him to the ground, the sword poised at his throat. _‘Why, all of a sudden, does violence come so easy to me?’_ You pushed the thought out of your head and set your mouth in a hard line.

“Did _he_ send you here?”

“W-who is " _he"_?” He catechized, hands trailing lower down his body.

You bit your lip, eyes scanning his face to search for even a sliver of deceit. What you saw was puzzlement and a slight sense of stupefaction. Your eyes locked with his, narrowing in suspension as his steely grey ones widened.

“Do not scream,” she warned. “Don’t say a word. You will answer all of my questions.”

”I promise you, I will.” He muttered. “Only if you answer mine.” 

"You are in no place to make demands-!" His hands returned,two wakizashi-sized bokken sat in them. He whacked your rapier out of the way, slicing his palms in his wake, kicked you in the stomach, stood up, and pounced 6 feet backward.

The two of you stared each other down, swords drawn in fortification. 

_Who is this guy?_

* * *

Kurapika didn’t know what was happening. At one point, he was literally walking through the air, and the next his bokken are drawn. For the past five years, throughout all his lonely traveling and training, he has never encountered such terrifying power. The winds kneeling at a human's beck and call; the idea of it was simply ludicrous. And he, being from the now-extinct Kurtan tribe, had seen many commodities during his escapades— the infamous big-horn bear, the oddly adorable eight-legged dog, and, again, a rat eating a slice of pizza.

But never in his life had he seen a sword-wielding, wind _witch_. 

His opponent staggered a bit, clutching her stomach as she hissed.

”Woah there _,”_ She mockingly said, “You sure kick hard, don’t you?”

Then she bit her lip. Deliberately, in a way that was impossible for Kurapika to miss, she turned her eyes up and down to the sight of his body. She smirked tantalizingly; her voice lowered.

“If I deny you your answers,” she purred, “will you be rougher with me, _Kurapika_?”

In the bowl of his hips, his stomach flipped; he felt that heat returning to his cheeks again. He tried not to show how her words had shaken him but it was too late; already, her smile was curving ( _suggestively_ , he thought, and what kind of psycho smiles when a weapon was drawn against them?) into a shape of smug delight.

"P-pardon?"

"...Relax, sunshine! I'm only teasing!" She joked, the smile on her face fading into a more pensive expression. "... You don’t even know nen. I doubt he would hire you, of all people, to kidnap me.” she hummed, serious expression dropping from her face, “Alright, I'll spare you... Goodbye, then!” She returned her sword into its sheath, turning her back to him as she was about to jump off the roof.

”W-wait!” Kurapika called, surprising himself as the words left his mouth.

"... Is something the matter?" She turned to face him, the ribbons of her kunoichi softly flowing in the breeze.

"You've... You've yet to tell me your name..."

Around her lips, a smile played like the shadow of a silver cloud upon a sunlit stream.

”Oh, how rude of me. My name is Y/n.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/n-san. It-... it wouldn’t be too much of a trouble for you to explain what you did, would it?”

She placed her hand on her chin in a thoughtful manner, eyebrows quirking pensively.

”Actually, it would. I’m on a very tight schedule, and I’d rather not drag a civilian into my wild goose chase. I've only three days left to complete my mission, you know."

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, the desperation legible in his voice. He placed his bokken back into their place underneath his tabard. “If you’re really that desperate to look for something, let me assist you. Perhaps, I could buy you a cup of tea as well?”

Her shoulders tensed. “Why?”

“‘ _Why?’”_ the blond repeated. Then he shrugged. “You look parched. I’d be willing to buy you breakfast, as well. It’s my fault you won’t indulge in your stolen food, after all. It's the least I can do to atone for my interference."

She raised her chin. “Food is cheap in this city. I could get some jenny easily.”

Her rejection deflated him, quickly as it came. His shoulders slumped, and his arms slipped loose of each other, and he held his palms out to her.

“Listen, your—skill— is rather spectacular. And—“

” _And_?” She repeated, wind swirling more intensely around her. 

“I want to be a hunter. To... avenge people who were extremely important to me. Please, explain how you did that... It would be extremely useful.”

When she failed to reply right away, he added, meekly, “I beg of you.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest. Who was this boy—this boy who was _begging_ for her help. Everything about him seemed to warn her away from him. She had no reason to assist him or speak to him, and she had no reason to trust him… but that he was beseeching in such a way that made her want to.

“Why should I trust you?” she asked. “Maybe you’re just luring me inside to trap me. How do I know I won’t follow you in and find _him_ sitting at the bar?”

”But you just said that he'd never hire anyone like me— That I don't know... " _nen_ ", was it?” Kurapika’s brows furrowed in frustration.

“How about this—“ she ignored his previous statement, “, if I see Lucilfer through the window, I’ll snap your neck, then run away!” She enthused, as casually as one might be while speaking of the weather.

A shudder ran down his spine as he dissected her words-- How could one be so nonchalant with the proposal of murder?

"Well, then I have nothing to fear, do I? Shall we take our leave?" He murmured, a ruminative expression bleeding through his gaze.

"I suppose— Meet you downstairs!"

And with that, she leaped from the building without hesitation.

Kurapika ran over to the ledge, the panic gracing his features fading as he saw her stand safely standing on the ground.

"How am I supposed to get down there?" He yelled, staring down at her now bijou figure.

A roguish simper grew onto her face.

"Figure it out, pretty boy!"

_Who is this girl?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its my fanfic i get to add random geographic features to the setting🤔‼️
> 
> btw do any of you guys know what kurapika did between the clan massacre and the hunter exam? i just assumed that he was traveling the world and training or something lmao


	10. ➶effervescence➴

As a Kurta, Kurapika knew of prophecies and tales of magic. There were gods, Anemoi, he believed they were called, deeply embedded into his clan's culture. They controlled the winds. There was Boreas, who was often described as a bearded old man with wings, who held a conch shell. He was closely associated with winter, as he was the bringer of cold and low temperatures. There was Notus, who was linked to the hot breeze that would blow after midsummer, causing the crops to burn and bringing the bad weather of late summer. Then, there was Eurus, who was considered to be an unlucky east wind. Eurus was a zephyr of a storm, described as a turbulent gale during storms and tossing ships on the sea.

He truly believed that Y/n had somehow won the patronage of Eurus.

"Well then, _pervert_ ," she purred, clasping his hand in hers, “lead the way."

“I-I told you that it wasn’t in an inappropriate manner!”

Kurapika felt his face heat up for the 4th time that morning. The young woman’s hand tightened around his as he led the way to the closest cafe. He hissed in pain, suddenly remembering the cuts in his palm. They walked, hand in hand, down the busy streets of York New. But for the first time during his visit to this damned city, Kurapika found something worth his while.

He glanced over at her, eyes zeroing in on her face. Her face portrayed seriousness, but a look of curiosity glistened in her eyes as her head shifted towards different buildings in astonishment. He didn’t know what he was thinking, interfering with a random person’s business and begging them for favors, ( _"A Kurta never begs. They take what they want with their sheer willpower."_ He recalled his father's words, now feeling shame in his current actions.) but he felt something. Even if he could not yet understand it: she held a unique power, omnidirectional and unpredictable... and as the curiosity within him burned brighter, he and this strange girl who had a rather unlikely meeting—decided to join forces and reach their individual goals.

Then it was over, as they stood in front of a rather unnecessarily extravagant coffee shop, her hand released his. Kurapika’s palm itched and tingled, but it did not burn with the same agony as it had when the girl had first grabbed it. He had been in pain, he was certain—now, he wasn’t. 

With no small amount of awe in his voice, Kurapika turned and asked the stranger, “...Did you do something to my hand?”

She quirked her eyebrow at him, an awkward smile gracing her lips. “I tried to cool it down with a breeze. Don't cool compresses help ease the pain or something? I wouldn’t be surprised if it hurts even worse than before in about two minutes.”

He kept his gaze fixed on her, awe ebbing away and yielding skepticism. Her words said one thing, but by the tone of her voice, she sounded awfully pleased with _herself._ Kurapika took in the sight of her. She was modestly dressed, her clothes elegant but very practical, made for utility and travel rather than pageantry—something Kurapika could understand, as the Kurta designed their garments much the same way. Of course, she looked anything _but_ Kurtan, no matter what lifestyle she may have led; neither did she carry herself the same way his people had, meek and deferential, yet a steadfast will to carry out what they most desire, no matter who interferes.

_This girl seems to only hold the last trait._ He pushed the thought aside, favoring to pursue the now ever-present ache in his hand. 

“I can feel the pain now... Why did you do this?” Kurapika asked, unable to keep the doubt from his voice. 

“You're buying me breakfast, right?" the girl replied. “I'm terrible at explaining things, so think of this as my apology, in advance! The credit for this new use of my power truly belongs to you.” Her face seemed more pallid than it was moments ago, exhaustion legible in her complacent smirk.

And there it was again—that pride, that self-satisfaction. ‘ _The credit is “mine,”’_ Kurapika thought, _‘but you are awfully quick to claim your part in it.’_ But her smile was kind, even if it was a bit smug, and although Kurapika hated to admit it to himself, he was rather relieved for her company. Small comfort though it was, it was good, in any case, not to be the only remotely odd person in the entirety of York New.

Peering through the expansive glass of the estaminet, the girl's eyes flickered at each patron residing inside, eyebrows furrowing. An embarrassed sigh escaped her lips as she turned to face Kurapika.

"... It seems that I've misjudged you. I'm sorry."

She smiled at him. It was uncertain, yes—colored by embarrassment, perhaps, or some other apprehension—but it was real, and it was warm.

“It’s alright,” Kurapika smiled, attempting to look reassuring. His hand motioned at the door, coaxing her to enter.

“After you.”

* * *

Rather than lessen the weight of it, the sound of the chatter of the cafe seemed only to amplify the awkward silence between the girl and Kurapika as they sat across from each other. He wanted to break the quiet, but he honestly did not know what to say.

“... You have questions, right? As I said, I’m tight on time— please make this quick.”

His cheeks color at those words. “Yes, my apologies-“

“Well, as you can see, I’m ready to answer them,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed upon him. As she did, she lifted the menu off the table, then her brow furrowed. “What the hell is a potato dill waffle... Sounds disgusting... I'm intrigued."

“I…” Kurapika began, racking his brain for a question to start with, “Who is the man following you?”

Such a simple question—a simple question to which Y/n was utterly incapable of giving a satisfying answer. She had thrown herself against it as the lagoon threw itself upon the marsh and that had made no difference. What was she to tell him? The longer the moment stretched in silence, the greater her panic grew. She did not trust Kurapika with the truth, and even if she did, she did not think he would believe her.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s it to you?”

A moment longer she looked at him, and Kurapika could not help but blush deeper under her gaze. It was searching, and intense; he had the strange sense that he was being _measured_ , somehow, by some invisible metric. (Stranger still, though he knew so little about her, he wanted to be found satisfactory.) 

Without a word, the girl eased herself back into her chair, stretching her arms over her head as she relaxed.

“Well, since you were so _hospitable_ by offering me food, it would be very rude of me to deny you your answers.” She raised her hand to her cheek and leaned into her own touch. “I’m running away from my master. It’s a rather long story.”

“I have the time.”

“I don’t.”

“Can I get you anything?” the waitress suddenly chimed over the girl’s shoulder, gesturing to the menu on the table. “Tea? Coffee?”

“Ah, yes. I’ll just have—“

Poor Kurapika had no idea what to do with himself. Only a moment ago this girl had been running through the streets with him, and now she was allowing him conversation and company, and he _almost certainly should not be here— he hadn’t the time,_ rooting around in a strangers business, but by now, he was in too deep— his curiosity will not allow him to leave. And she still seemed at least a little suspicious of him. If he tried to leave… well, he wasn’t sure she’d _let_ him leave, until she was satisfied he wasn’t going to alert her master and have him wrestle her back to her home against her wishes.

”Kurapika-kun? Hey, are you even listening? Do you want anything?”

So… sure. If he was going to stay, he’d welcome a warm cup of tea.

“Uhh, jasmine tea, yes, if you have it.” He gazed up at the waitress, offering her a dismissive glance as she walked away. “Forgive me. I didn't realize—I assumed that I would accompany you in your search.”

She snorted— it was a short obnoxious sound, condescension dripping from its tone.

”I don’t think you’d be able to keep up with, Blondie.”

“It seemed I could hold my own against you on that roof. And please refrain from calling me "Blondie"."

“That’s because I let you!” A flustered expression crossed her face, annoyance underling it, “That meant nothing! Just— uh, do you have any other questions?”

“Can I see your power again?” Kurapika asked, planting his elbow on the table as he leaned towards her, peering at her face with a look of curiosity.

“Regrettably, no,” she replied, glancing down, embarrassed, “I’ve tired myself out. Maybe in a couple of hours.”

“Couple of hours?” the boy repeated, perking up noticeably. “So, you’ll have me? I... I’d love to observe your power up close.”

“You aren't giving me much choice, aren't you? And don’t get too excited,” she warned, but she was smiling, again; pleased, it seemed, to have someone new who appreciated her hatsu. (She had gone so long without a new audience, stuck in her home for her “safety”) “It isn’t terribly remarkable, in my opinion. But I’ve devised, at least, a couple of ways to utilize my nen. I could try to do a little party trick right now— but that’s it.”

”Please do.”

She shifted in her chair, pulling a cell phone out of her pocket.

She raised her opposite hand to her side and her phone flew into her other hand, effortlessly.

“As I said, unremarkable,” she spoke, raising an eyebrow as platters met the table, forceful enough to clatter.

”There you are! Enjoy your meal!” the woman spoke, voice tight and curt.

”Thank you very much!” Y/n chimed, shooting the waitress a kind smile.

“Unremarkable? It’s… it’s lovely. Spectacular,” Kurapika told her. “Controlling and summoning something as unpredictable as wind is... It’s amazing.”

She beamed at the praise, leaning back in her chair, smiling widely. “I’m not summoning it; I’m simply _making_ it. The wind that I used to lift us into the air was literally an extension of me. Thank you for saying so—I’m glad you like it.”

He looked up at her in wonder; she was beaming at him, effervescent with pride. 

“How..?”

”Nen.”

”Can you teach me?” he asked, meekly.

”T-teach you? Kurapika, I haven’t even finished my training! I am _definitely_ not qualified to instruct you-“

”I don’t care for qualifications. Just educate me on the basics.”

”In only three days? That’s impossible!“ 

_It’s not_ completely _impossible..._ She thought.

After all, Chrollo always said most of nen was will, intent. It seemed, anyway, no less wild a notion than the idea that Kurapika had walked away from such an experience without having his aura nodes unblocked. She had been watching him discreetly from the corner of her eye, but he did not have even the slightest hint of powerful nen. Perhaps, if she punched him hard enough...

“...Why only three days? Why must you have to leave so soon?”

”... I need to take the Hunter Exam.”

“You are not a hunter already?” Kurapika asked, awe ebbing into his tone.

“That’s because my master wouldn’t let me take the test. I ran away for that reason. He’s... He’s also been keeping things from me and I just started to notice.” she hummed, “He must’ve told the rest of the group about my “disobedience”. No doubt, they're following me right now.”

At that, Y/n’s phone buzzed.

She lifted the phone to her gaze, eyes narrowing as they scanned the single message that graced the screen.

_**+81-805-5519-833:** _

_**Enjoy the exam, Y/n. It’s the last bit of freedom you’ll experience for a long time.** _

_Fuck. He's pissed. (How did he even manage to memorize this number so quickly?)_

"Well, as I said earlier, I plan on taking the exam as well." Kurapika broke the tensed silence, "Perhaps we could accompany each other— you could teach me this "nen" while we travel."

"I've..." she swallowed, fear catching in your throat, "Kurapika, listen. I just said that people were following me, dangerous people at that. I can’t in good conscience let you hang around me.”

”Why, all of the sudden, does hesitation come to you?" Kurapika's eyes narrowed in suspicion, shooting from her cell phone to her face. "Did your master contact you?"

"That's none of your business." she scoffed, annoyance bleeding into her tone, she hastily changed the subject, "I get that you wanna avenge people or something, but why should I even waste my time training you? What's in it for me?"

"I could help you search whatever you're looking for; I've already explained this."

Y/n made a noise of disgust and rolled her eyes, then crowed. “Well, thank the gods for your tenacity.” She threw her hands up in the air, then fiddled with her rapier’s hilt to give Kurapika a look of warning. “You _are_ lucky that I’ve spared you; you realize that, right? If I were you, I’d give up already.” Then, after glancing down at her stack of waffles, she added, half under her breath, “It’s ridiculous how easily you think I’d trust a stranger.”

“Some of the greatest pieces of master-student literature of our time have come from humbler beginnings, Y/n-san,” the blond said, with the vague note of condescension in his voice. “If I had the chance, I believe I would fair well in battle with you. Yet, appearances are deceiving, and many battles have been won solely by the victor’s ability to manipulate such perceptions. Is that not why you dress the way that you do, ma’am?” Kurapika asked, feigning innocence. “Clean-cut and elegant. So that no one could possibly be threatened by the sight of you? Trust me when I say that I am more than capable of holding my own.” 

She blew a loud and wet raspberry in response. “Not all of us spend our days fapping about, literature this, appearances that. I’ve got enough to do without having to worry about whether or not my mien is innocent enough to attract a pervert!”

“Is that so?” Kurapika asked, a slight bitter quirk to his lips. “I’m surprised to hear that you have an expansive vocabulary.”

Y/n gave a little snort of genuine laughter as she released her sword's handle “You’re one to talk. I didn’t think a pretty boy like you would bother to learn “big, scary words”!”

“Ah,” Kurapika said, avoiding her gaze, eyes burning into the cup of tea in his hands. “I suppose that learning a language straight from a dictionary supplies one that knowledge. But...”

“But?” the girl asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Kurapika’s hands released the tea back onto the table, grey eyes meeting (e/c).

The golden sunlight flooding in from outside the cafè silhouetted him, turned him radiant around his edges. His back was straight, his posture perfect… and he was looking at Y/n with such direct and focused attention that it stole her breath. 

“But,” he said, with a slight smirk, “I have yet to encounter someone who hasn’t shamed me for my accent. And so I am a little less accustomed than usual to being teased over my extensive knowledge of the world’s language rather than the dialect I carry my voice with.”

Y/n felt the heat rising in her cheeks. She tried her best to chase it off with a joke. She flashed a canny smile back at him, then began to sip from her cup of coffee. “Is that your roundabout way of thanking me for being a decent human being, or guilt-tripping me into being your master?” she asked, playfully. 

“I am saying that the lack of humility resides in many cities. It’s refreshing to meet someone who doesn't hold bigoted ideologies.” His voice softened as he continued. “I have, perhaps, been remiss in not thanking you enough for that: the pleasure of your company. Our conversation, albeit this being our first, has meant a great deal to me—more than you can know.”

The girl could not keep her eyes away from him, then, regardless of the risk of color in her cheeks. She glanced up and found Kurapika regarding her with a pensive warmth, and a fond smile.

“I suppose that it’s been cool talking to you, too,” she told him, without realizing she’d planned to. At the look on his face, the words had bubbled out of her as if of their own accord.

An exasperated sigh climbed up her throat as she playfully glared into the boy's stormy eyes, searching for even a sliver of treachery or betrayal. His irises contained nothing of the sort; only a beseeching look "Ugh... Fine. If you wanna follow me around like a lost puppy, that's your prerogative. But I have some conditions."

”And what might they be?”

Her eyes narrowed as she leaned over the table, gaze writhing with an intensity that burnt like a steady flame as she stared into Kurapika’s eyes.

“Rule #1: Never try to correct me. Rule #2: If I order you to do something, you better do it. Rule #3...”

“Rule #3?” the blond questioned.

Y/n recalled the words of her sword instructor, Nobunaga Hazama.

”Don’t be fucking stupid.”

Kurapika had to fight the smile off his face when he learned the last regulation. “Yes, I believe I can manage that.”

”Alright. Don’t be too much of a whiny baby when you get the worst teacher ever, Sunshine.” Y/n huffed, bashfully looking anywhere but Kurapika.

Kurapika smirked, “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m aware that you’re technically my master, but may I offer a small piece of unsolicited advice? One swordsman to another?”

She’d only just met him, but already Y/n suspected that ‘unsolicited advice’ was going to be a running theme. Still, she wasn’t so proud that she would refuse his help. “Please.”

He turned to her with a trace of a smile, considering before he responded. Then, with confidence and authority, he told her, “Focus on defending yourself first and identifying their weakness. Once you have discerned the patterns of their behavior, you can easily anticipate their attacks, avoid or deflect them—and find your opening. Humans are predictable far more often than they are adaptable.”

Y/n almost laughed; a huff of derision and doubt slipped free instead. Such a strategy would require level-headedness that she did not possess—the idea that she could play it so cool, given the circumstances, was laughable. “I’ll try to keep that in mind,” she said, trying to sound reassured. By the look Kurapika gave her in response, he was unconvinced.

He did not reply immediately. Instead, the boy merely looked at her, his expression curious and his gaze penetrating and unreadable—Y/n could not shake the feeling that she was being measured, somehow. When he broke his silence, the words he spoke seemed to have little to do with the advice he’d just offered.

“You’re looking for someone important to you, are you not?”

The way he said it—the inquiry almost _too_ casual—made Y/n suspect (with a flash of hot rage) that the advice had been mere pretense, meant to lead to this line of questioning, wherever it was going. She did not like the way his voice curled with condescension. Y/n watched him for a reaction, a challenge in her eyes when she answered, “Yes, I am. It’s rather personal.”

That rankled him, though for the life of her the girl could not understand why. His mouth set and his shoulders squared, and Y/n could not help the feeling that he was looking _past,_ rather than _at_ her.

“If you have another piece of ‘unsolicited advice,’ by all means,” she said, wary and snide in equal measure, “don’t hold back.”

Kurapika paused, considering. “It is surprising,” he answered, finally. “Many people in your situation would deny my company. I’m grateful.” He shrugged, casually.

The anger quickly disappeared from her body, being replaced with a sense of embarrassment.

“Yeah, whatever,” she muttered, finally stabbing a fork through her waffles. “I just hope you’ve got a hotel room or something, because your dear _master_ isn’t in the mood to lug around a blond stick figure who hasn’t slept in two days.”

”Aren't you in a hurry?” Kurapika questioned, quirking an eyebrow at her admission. 

“Yes, but what good will you be if you fall asleep at my mom’s feet? Plus, It’d be hard teaching an unconscious teenage boy!”

“Ah, so you’re searching for your mother?” Kurapika regarded her, “And, yes, I do have a hotel room.”

“Yeah. I haven’t seen her in years, so it’ll be hard. So, if you’re gonna help me, you’ll need both energy and focus for the next three days,” she said, by way of explanation, and her tone was both gentle and firm. “Here, you can have some of my waffles,” Y/n spoke, stabbing the stack with the blond’s unused fork and offering it to him.

Kurapika regarded the food with reluctance; the truth was his stomach was still in knots. But her concern moved him: she must have noticed he had been eyeing her meal subconsciously. He took the silverware from her hand, and brought it to his mouth; he did not want to spurn her generosity. 

As Kurapika continued to chew the confection, the girl’s gaze shifted to the window. She leaned her head into the palm of her hands, her hands covering her mouth. Suddenly, her gaze became steely as her body language tensed.

“What was it that you are thinking about?” the blond’s voice roused her, gently. “You seem lost in thought.”

Y/n inconspicuously pointed out the window, gesturing to the crowd of ever-present people walking towards their destinations. “Do you see that man? The lanky one? He’s staring at us and I sense his aura. He knows nen.”

Kurapika paused, following the line of her arm and gazing through the glass. “A pervert, I suspect,” he said, turning back to her.

The girl’s upper lip trembled, and she grimaced. “No, I know a creep when I see one. Take yourself for example.” Kurapika’s face soured at that statement, “There’s more to this guy,” she confessed, her voice little more than a whisper. “He knows something.” Her eyebrows knit, and she stared at the food in front of her. “Is he still staring?”

Kurapika kept his voice a gentle whisper, although he knew it to be impossible that the eery man could hear their conversation. “Yes, he is. But that’s a rather bold statement. Perhaps, you’re just paranoid.”

“Remember the first rule? Never try to correct me.” Y/n spoke gently, eyes glancing up at the boy, “If there’s anything I’ve learned through my training, it’s to _always_ follow my instincts. We’re following that guy.” She lept from her seat, waffles left forgotten at the table as her gaze shifted to the restive man staring outside. As soon as their eyes met, the man jumped and scurried through the crowd.

”W-we’re what?!”

“Come on, Kurapika, look lively.” A hand—Y/n’s—fell to his shoulder and guided him, gently but firmly, away from their booth. “Let’s go’”

“But we’ve yet to pay!”

“We’ll come back later!” Y/n replied, steering him between the rows of tables back towards the alleyway “Just act natural until we leave. Now come on.”

Numbly, Kurapika followed her, half-guided, half-dragged out of the cafe. It seemed he had no space left in him for fear—and he _should_ be afraid, he knew that now. This girl, his master, was incredibly rash. If an employee caught them leaving, it seemed likely they would have to waste even more time. But he was still thinking of the scrawny man, and his eagerness to escape Y/n’s gaze, and wondering how the conclusion to follow him had even come to be in place.

Outside the sun shined warmly, but Kurapika barely had the chance to appreciate it before Y/n’s hand was closing over his. Wordlessly, he followed her. They broke into a run.

” _Hey! Wait, come back!”_ Kurapika heard the waitress screech from behind them.

”Sorry, ma’am! Thanks for the service though!” Kurapika’s new master jested from over her shoulder, a mischievous smirk plastered across her face as just watched the server with amusement.

When they came to a major, well-lit intersection of roads, Y/n slowed, craning her neck around the side of the building to check that the way was clear. “Where are we going?” Kurapika huffed, glancing around for the shady man.

“Wherever that creep went” was all she replied, before taking his hand and leading him off again.

”I’m super burnt out right now, so this might not work out that well. You're about to feel pretty funny, but don’t worry, you’re safe.” the girl muttered, allowing her aura to extend past the limits of her body. Her _en_ stretched out into a fairly large sphere as she searched for the man’s aura.

”He’s this way!”

Y/n pulled him into another alley. It was tighter than many of the others, not quite wide enough for him to stretch his arms out at each side of him without touching stone. It was also cluttered with refuse, which Y/n led him over, deftly but quickly, pulling him deeper into the alley. Then, she pressed him into the shadows, holding him close to the wall, where they were easy to overlook.

”There he is...” she whispered, not phased by the close proximity of their bodies.

Kurapika’s gaze shifted ahead, narrowing that the man as he huffed out a breath. His wiry, graying hair shook as he ran his hands through his locks furiously.

”Hey! We ~found you~“ she sang menacingly. In an instant, Y/n leaped at the man, rapier ever sharp and strong as she drew it. "You've got some explaining to do, mister."

The man’s eyes widened in surprise as he pressed himself against the wall— a desperate attempt to escape the sharp edge of the aggressive girl’s sword. His frantic eyes met her, and Y/n was surprised to see them sparkle with amusement.

”M-my, my, Y/n. You’ve got Sheila’s eyes...” The man chimed, a smirk growing on his face as he shook.

“...”

At those words, Y/n was unusually quiet. When Kurapika turned to her again he could plainly see the thought that she caged in her mouth, though she could not determine its nature. “What is he talking about?”

The odd man merely raised an eyebrow, turned his gaze from Y/n to Kurapika. “I b-believe in this instance it would be better to hold my tongue.”

Kurapika shifted his gaze to look at her, searching her expression. There was something in the tone of the man’s voice that he did not understand, and did not like. As though these settlements of some permanence displeased him. 

Y/n’s sword rose against the man’s neck, ready to slit his throat at any given moment.

“How do you know my and my mother’s names?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOWIE what a monster of a chapter ahhh- btw I'm having way too much fun adding cultural properties to the kurta clan. anemoi are actually from greek mythology, so if you're into that, check it out !
> 
> spelling and grammar errors galore am i right ladies aha🤾🏽♀️
> 
> thank you for all the kudos and comments :) <3


	11. ➶demure➴

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: panic attack depicted in text.

_[ arduous and incessant proceeding; perpetual and unbroken; and endless and uninterrupted. restless racing, springing, sprinting, [ would do-anything-give-anything-surrender-everything to catch him ] tearing through the brush, bounding, breaking, footfall after countless footfall, rushing and dashing [ + in pursuit of…? + ] [_ ⎨ _you, of course! don’t be silly, arkot!_ ⎬ _] darting [ { emptiness, indifference, distance… what is sought is kept always out of reach} ] aimless and insistent [ | and much too quiet—silenced, now, the sound of drums | ] and maimed, halved, mangled… lost. ]_

They found the squirrely old man in the alleyway, only for Y/n to pin him against the stone wall without warning, with the air of a tyrant; arrogant and power-mad. Kurapika had assumed that his master was a “reasonable person”; her current actions seemed to plant seeds of doubt into that notion. Reasonable people rarely hold swords to others' throats.

”M-my, my, Y/n. You’ve got Sheila’s eyes...” The man chimed, a smirk growing on his face as he quivered.

“...”

At those words, Y/n was unusually quiet. When Kurapika turned to her again, he could plainly see the thought that she caged in her mouth, though he could not determine its nature. “What is he talking about?”

The odd man merely raised an eyebrow, turned his gaze from Y/n to Kurapika. “I believe in this instance it would be better to hold my tongue.”

Kurapika shifted his gaze to look at her, searching her expression. There was something in the tone of the man’s voice that he did not understand, and did not like. As though these settlements of some permanence displeased him. 

Y/n’s sword rose against the man’s neck, ready to slit his throat at any given moment.

“How do you know my and my mother’s names?”

“Perhaps, we can discuss this in my shop?” The man spoke, shoulders dropping in _ease._

“Wha—how _dare_ you,” she spluttered. “I literally have a sword at your neck—I could kill you right now. In fact, it’s a small miracle that my blade isn’t covered in your blood—and you’re still trying to weasel your way out of this? No, sir- not me! Now, speak!”

He did not bother to look at her before responding, his tone dry, but faint humor beginning to rise in it. “Ah, but Y/n, if you were to murder me, how would you come across such knowledge freely? What, other than arrogance, would lead you to believe that you would stumble upon this information on your own?”

It was like… it was like he was _bored_ of her; like he was so sure of himself that she was unworthy of his fear. Her rage threatened to boil over. Who was he— _pride!—_ to be making accusations of arrogance? She was so frustrated with him, exasperated, insulted; perhaps what vexed her more than anything else was that he did not even have the decency to turn his head and look her in the eye while he degraded her.

”Who the hell do you think you are?!” She grabbed his hair, tugging at the scalp, “Look at me when you insult me-“

He did not resist. His body clenched beneath her touch, betraying hidden strength, but he allowed himself to be turned, then leveled her with nothing more than an elegantly raised eyebrow, a cool authority in his gaze.

Her stomach dropped.

It was just a look, that was all, but it had stopped her mid-sentence. In his glance and self-composure, she sensed confidence that might have bordered on conceit, if the look did not also suggest that it was backed by a thorough competency. Then her gaze met his. The realization struck her, suddenly, sinking through her with a boulder’s weight.

She knew those eyes.

“... I know you..”

The man smirked, amusement ebbing onto his face. “Come to my home and I’ll explain everything.”

* * *

The walk to the shop took no longer than ten minutes, but time seemed to pass much, much more slowly.

The tenuous harmony (or at the very least, begrudging tolerance) that had developed between the two of them—Y/n and Kurapika—was immediately broken by the newcomer, popped like a bubble. Now, not a moment went by without awkward gaps of silence, words of condescension being flung carelessly at the man. Trying to have a conversation was like navigating a minefield; the man was often accused of being, at different points, either too suspicious, too convenient, not reliable enough. More often than not, Kurapika kept his eyes on the horizon and his thoughts to himself. He could not have been more relieved when they finally found the path that led upwards towards doors of “ _Othello’s_ _Apothecary_ ”.

“Wait - _that’s_ it?!”

Y/n’s voice, incredulous, rang out clear through the chilly, January breeze. 

“That is my shop, yes,” the man, Kurapika assumed was named Othello, confirmed. “Two tenants live on the floor above.”

“What, a pharmacy, and an apartment complex? It’s so run down! That’s what you’re in such a hurry to get back to?” she asked, near tears with laughter. “That’s what's got you so bothered?” she spat with venom, a smirk crossing her face.

_She speaks poison in her annoyance._

“It’s not terribly bad, Y/n-san,” Kurapika corrected, attempting to do damage control.

She scoffed, eyes rolling to the back of her head in exasperation and annoyance. “Whatever.”

Othello patted his pockets, presumably searching for a key.

”Oh, no.”

”Is there a problem?” Kurapika’s eyebrow furrowed, glancing expectingly at the wiry man.

”Seems that I’ve lost my keys in the commotion.” 

Y/n stifled a laugh, eyes crinkling in amusement. “So, I guess that means we’ve gotta climb through the window?”

"Hmmm," Othello susurrated lightly, eyebrows creasing in thought, "Yes, that's a wonderful idea, Y/n!"

"Dude, I was kidding-"

After slipping neatly through the open window, it was fairly obvious that nobody was currently home. The lights in the shop were extinguished, and the house was silent. The only source of light fluttering through the now shut curtains.

And in the dim quiet, Y/n began to second-guess herself. There was no telling what this man was capable of, what his intentions were. For all she knew, he had a hatsu similar to Chrollo’s! Was Y/n really the kind of person to follow an old man into a vacant room, conversing, mentally coming up with the most clever and dramatic quip to greet her mother with when she—eventually—found her with this stranger’s help?

…Well, she _was_ , but that didn't mean she _should_. 

“Welcome to my humble abode! Please, sit!” Othello chimed, gesturing to the circular table in the center of the chamber as he walked around the room, opening the curtains and attempting to clean.

Without a word, the man dropped all of the strange viles and books he was holding into a corner, then settled back onto his feet, stretching his arms over his head as he walked over to the small kitchenette. He set a kettle to boil above it, then reached for the cupboards.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked them over his shoulder, gesturing to the table for them to sit again. “Tea? Coffee?”

"Ah, no thank you," Kurapika spoke, doubt and suspicion lacing his tone.

"Well, I insist!"

"Just...sit down before I shove my sword up your as-"

"Y/n!"

Othello looked at her with an amused smirk, then nodded. "Well, we wouldn't want that, would we? May I ask a question of a personal nature, Y/n?” he asked, finally taking a seat at the table. His tone was innocuous, but that made Y/n more nervous than if his words had cut outright.

“Go ahead,” she answered, slowly. Her gaze did not waver for an instant, fixed on his face. Her face was set, and she spoke to him like she was raising a shield for a blow; she steeled herself for whatever insult, intentional or not, that he was about to deal her. “If you do your very best to be polite about it, you may even get an answer.”

He chuckled. His eyes traced down to her waist. “Are you aware that you’ve tied your obijime wrong?”

Kurapika’s mouth flitted into an upwards curve at that statement, as he tried his best not to erupt into a peal of laughter. Y/n glowered at Othello, “Really? 'C-cause I think I look perfect! Maybe you should look in a mirror before you judge me, Mr. I’m-Mysterious-Because-I’m-Wearing-A-Dark-Cloak!”

“Y/n-san, it’s the middle of the winter; of course he’s wearing a clo-“

”S-shut up, Kurapika!”

Othello’s laughter cut through the tension, deep and hearty it rang, “Good to see that you’re still as stubborn as you were all those years ago!”

"All those years ago..? Who are you?"

“Ah, so you don’t remember me at all?” His eyebrows furrowed, face falling in disappointment, “I’m called Othello, which you could probably tell by the name of the shop. I was your parent’s landlord. Although, "friend" may be a more fitting word."

"You were our landlord?" Y/n muttered, eyes darting around the room, flitting with recognition. "I've... I've been here before..."

"Ah! So, it seems that you remember this room! I would take care of you while your parents were away, which was quite often, might I add..."

His words were thick with promise and secrecy, and the effect it had upon her was immediate. Y/n tilted her head, appraising Othello through narrowed eyes, a smile wavering on her lips. She could not help her curiosity. It drowned out all the other thoughts in her head, protests that in a time of such crisis she should not permit herself this indulgence.

"So, who may this fine gentleman be? A boyfriend, I presume?" Othello spoke slyly, eyes narrowing as his lips quirked upwards into a smirk.

"W-what? I- I am nothing of the sort! I-"

Y/n scoffed, a short-clipped sound as she hummed in contemplation. "Oh, dear gods no! Pretty boys aren't exactly my type, Othello. Plus, don't you think I could do better?" She bantered, eyes flashing in mischief as her gaze shifted to the blond.

The teenage boy's face twisted into one of dismay, its pouty nature clear to those in the room. "Well, obnoxious wind witches aren't exactly my type either." 

Y/n flashed him a toothy smile, eyes crinkling in amusement as she aggressively ruffled his golden tresses, "Aww, be still my beating heart!" She mocked, turning to Othello, "This is Kurapika. I guess you could say that I'm his nen master or something."

"You're a master? At your age?" The older man's forehead creased in amazement, mouth gaping as he peered at her.

"Well, I didn't exactly have a say in the matter. Kurapika wouldn't stop begging me, so-"

"I didn't exactly beg-"

"Blondie, we both know that that isn't true-"

"Oh, my dear boy, what happened to your hands?!" Othello abruptly interrupting the casual banter, hands flying across the circular table as they held Kurapika's.

"Oh," The blonde hissed, the pain suddenly returning full force as the older man's fingers traced the shallow lacerations on his palms, "I caught Y/n's sword."

"With your bare hands?!" Othello's head turned towards Y/n, confusion gracing his face as his eyes bore into hers.

"It was a misunderstanding!"

"Let me get my supplies," Othello started, raising from his seat in a haste, "So, Y/n, I assume that you plan on taking the Hunter Exam? 

"What makes you say that?"

"Sounds like something you'd do."

She chuckled, her face flushed embarrassment when she looked up at him, "Am I that easy to read?"

"Yes."

"Shut up, Kurapika."

Othello chuckled good-heartedly as he returned to his seat with a first aid kit, "I suppose it was just a stab in the dark," he took Kurapika's hands in his, applying ointment to the lacerations. "But it starts in three days, does it not?"

"Yeah, I came to York New for a head start, I guess. It was sort of a spur-of-the-moment decision." 

"Ah," Othello said, wrapping Kurapika's wounds in bandages, "those are the best kinds of decisions. But, I must ask, head start for what?"

"Mom. I'm looking for her"

Othello's smile fell, his expression shifted into something impossible to read: pitying, perhaps, but not unkind, "Oh," He eyes landed back on Kurapika, but as soon as he saw him, he stared back at her and held her gaze as long as he could, then he broke from her.

She got the message.

"Oh?" Kurapika spoke, confusion lacing his tone.

"Oh." Y/n responded, forcing a smile onto her face as she nudged his ribs.

They fell into a contemplative, slightly awkward, silence until Othello broke it,

"I’ve, uh... Shall I provide you with supplies? For the exam?”

“I’ve got quite en-“

”Yes! That’d be so helpful.” Y/n interrupted Kurapika, expressing her eagerness to accept the help, “Thank you.”

"It's really no problem. I'll go grab you a pack." the old man spoke, raising from his place at the table, turning on his heel as he took long strides past the beaded curtain that separated the kitchenette from the rest of his home. 

"... What an odd man." 

"Odd? I'd say... eccentric-"  
  


"Y/n," Kurapika interrupted, blinking at her twice, before his face transformed into a perfectly practiced mask of confusion. "This is a man we just met. Are you sure it's wise to trust him? It would be better-"

"Rule number one, Kurapika." she spoke, not sparing the blond a glance, "Never try to correct me."

Kurapika fixed his gaze on her, lips just parted, interrupted—and the troubled furrow between his eyes smoothed, and his brows lifted, softly. "Right. But that rule doesn't forbid me the right to ask questions."

Y/n scoffed, in her good-natured way that made abundantly clear his ruse would not work on her. "Smartass. Well, it does now... But, to answer your question, I never said that I trust him. I just met him- I just met _you._ Trust is earned, not simply freely given."

"... That's very wise of you."

"Ya think so? Maybe I should be a philosopher!"

The barest trace of a smile curled Kurapika's lips. "I said wise, not eloquent." 

Y/n grinned, laughed lightly in turn. "You wound me, Sunshine!"

"Don't call me th-"

"I've packed plenty of jenny, among many other supplies," Othello returned, supplies cradled in his arm "Listen Y/n, I've got to open shop-"

"Awe, seriously?"

"Yes! I've got to give the people what they want. You'd be surprised how large the market for illegal medicinals is-"

"... Would I?"

"You best be on your way now. Best of luck to the two of you." He strode across the room, hastily shoving the supplies into Y/n's awaiting hands. The man grasped her wrist, thrusting a piece of scrapped paper into her palm.

"... Thank you, Othello."

"You needn't thank me."

"We'll meet again?"

"Of course!"

She tugged at her lip between her teeth, still measuring him with her look, wondering. “Promise?” she half-asked, half-asserted, testing him.

“Trust me,” he said, softly, simply; and she did. Even with that mischievous look in the corner of his eyes again, nebulous with hidden agendas, all his unknown depths. “I’ll contact you soon.”

* * *

Behind the shop, the sun was westering and turning the sky gold, blush, indigo. It was not yet nightfall, but the streetlights had already begun to light-up. A tall lamppost hovered over the two of them, illuminating the grey concrete in front of them, which was strewn with all the items Othello had gifted the two of them… or, more accurately, Y/n.

"We were in there for quite some time, weren't we Y/n-san?" Kurapika supplied, breaking the tense silence that the two of them stewed in.

"Ah. Yes," the nen user absentmindedly replied, hands sifting through the various tubes of ointment and the wads of jenny. "You've got a bag, right?"

"O-oh, right. Here you are-" Kurapika hastily tore his satchel from his shoulder, kneeling down beside his master in order to aid her in collecting their supplies. "... Are you alright?"

Such a simple question—a simple question to which Y/n was utterly incapable of giving a satisfying answer.

"Why wouldn't I be? We've got an ally in York New, and we know more about my mother than before! I'm better than ever!"

"It doesn't seem so."

Y/n glanced upwards to find Kurapika looking back at her, listening with such scrutiny and intensity in his eyes that she couldn’t help herself from diverting her gaze just as quickly.

"I just... I suppose that I expected more from that visit."

When she had finished he was still looking at her with that intensity; the weight of his attention upon her was a near-palpable thing, a heat or a weight. “I understand,” Kurapika told her, and his look softened as he smiled, though it was slight and distant. “but it's a push in the right direction, is it not?"

“But is the push really hard enough?” Y/n pressed.

“Any push is stronger than a lack thereof, Y/n-san,” Kurapika replied. “We've gathered much information. Only in a day, too. After the Exam, I'm sure that your search will come to a close quickly.”

Y/n nearly snarled the words, “Easier said than done.” 

Her reaction must have surprised him—she could tell by the way he looked at her, with heightened interest and curiosity. “You will say that, nonetheless,” he rebutted. “But it's true. Why must you underestimate yourself so?”

“Better to underestimate rather than overestimate,” Y/n shot back. “...But you're probably right.” She waved her hand dismissively in his direction. “My master would always say that I needed more confidence. But, then again, he's a fucking psychopath. Not the most reliable guy, if you asked me."

Kurapika folded his arms behind his back, his posture straight as an arrow. “What is that old saying? "Even a broken clock is right twice a day”?" He asked the question without judgment, but his choice of words punctuated the distance between them. "I'd say that that phrase would apply to him."

“What if the clock was fucking bashed with a hammer and doused in water? Is it still gonna work?" Y/n questioned, glancing at him discreetly. “I'd say that my old master would relate to that kind of clock...”

Kurapika laughed, a clear, crisp sound that cuts through the tension between the two of them. She soon joined him, anxiety leaving her as her laughter rang clear. That did something to him—moved him some way. Y/n could not quite pick out what the change was, but she felt measured again, tested. His gaze had become distant. She looked at him, warily, searching for any trace of where he had gone off to, or why. 

Then, her voice called softly: “Thank you. For enjoying my stupid hotheadedness.”

His gaze shifted; Y/n was seen again, instead of seen past. “How can you be certain that I do?”

Y/n laughed, the first carefree laugh she’d favored Kurapika with. “You’d have to be a pretty good actor. Even I can admit that I can be hard to deal with sometimes.”

He lifted a brow. “Sometimes?"

“... Alright, most of the time,” Y/n agreed, “more times than I can count. Forgive me for being this way, but I've always been rather... impetuous,” Then she threw her arms up and shrugged, her tone turning dry. “But, I think it's endearing.”

He laughed—a light little chuckle, but a genuine one nonetheless. Y/n smiled, unable to help herself. At present, -humor was her best defense mechanism for dealing with her circumstances, and it was good to share it. 

“All jests aside... I am glad you are here, Kurapika,” Y/n said, and she meant it. For a moment, she almost felt warm towards Kurapika… then, just as swiftly, she pushed the feeling away. “it'd suck ass having to do this alone.” 

“Yes,” Kurapika agreed, with a smile. “It would "suck ass", wouldn't it?” He held her gaze, then added, “I'm glad that I've met you, as well. You'll be able to help me with my goal, and I, yours.”

Y/n sucked a breath. _Oh_. Of course, she'd nearly forgotten. This was strictly business; there was no time for companionship.

"Right." she breathed, glancing down at Kurapika's pack as she slung it over her shoulder. "What have you eaten today? Besides a sliver of waffles and a cup of tea?"

Kurapika's eyebrows furrowed, confused by her change in demeanor. "I had half of an omelet this morning before you rudely interrupted with your turbulent gales," he joked, trying to lighten her mood.

"Oh. I apologize." she spoke softly, "Well, as your master, I suppose it'd be irresponsible to let you waste away." She tugged at the blond's hand, towards the busy street. "Let's get some food. My treat, I suppose."

"Oh. Alright."

Y/n had guided Kurapika to a booth in the back of the restaurant. Upon the table were two menus and a few salt shakers. They were in the center of a dim, cozy space, with a number of wooden tables and booths. All around them the bar and grill's patrons played cards, drank, and argued, sometimes in a language Y/n understood, sometimes in a language she didn’t. No one paid any attention to her. If Chrollo really did put a bounty on her head, these lowlifes certainly didn’t get commissioned.

She turned her gaze to the bar. It was crowded with bottles, none of which had labels and some of which (it looked like from afar) were filled with not only liquid but also a combination of bizarre items, which appeared to be a melange of buttons, geodes, frogs legs, butterfly wings, orchid blooms, and mushrooms. She hadn’t the faintest idea what any of it was. At home, she and Nobunaga had only drunk alcohol on a few special occasions ( _"Don't tell Danchou. He'd have my head if he ever found out."_ ), and then it had only been the one thing, and so she knew of only one beverage she enjoyed. None of the bottles on display behind the bar bore any resemblance to it.

Looking at Kurapika with faint trepidation, she asked him, “Do you think the bartender knows how to make a Whiskey Sour?”

The blond voiced a low sound of confusion. “Aren't you eighteen or something? The legal age of drinking is twenty-one in this country. ”

"Uh, I'm fifteen."

"Fifteen?!"

With a wink, she shoved Kurapika his bag and turned to go, “Almost sixteen though,”

His eye gleamed silver when he called after her. “That doesn't exactly make it better.”

And so, he took a seat and grabbed a menu, eyes scanning the torn and slightly browned paper.

"Oi, was that your girlfriend, little boy? What's she do-doing with a guy like you?" 

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of a drunkard, meandering away from the thrum of activity at the bar. His cheeks were flushed in mirth and mischief. 

"Hey, answer me when," the drunkard hiccuped, "when I talk to you~!" Flush in the full bloom of his recent victory, he was confident, rude; once he was at an arm’s distance from him, he tapped Kurapika, roughly, on his shoulder. He turned, already agitated as he searched, "What?"

"... Well, I," _hiccup_ , "didn't expect you to be a pretty boy..." 

"... Absolutely foul."

"What'd you say to me-"

He raised his arm; Kurapika dodged forward just in time to avoid being smacked. But when he raised his head, he discovered that the dipsomaniac had turned its attention back towards Y/n's direction; without thinking, without preparing, he hit the man square in the face.

"Leave."

"...W-whatever... I'm not into blond's anyway."

Kurapika almost laughed; a huff of derision slipped free instead. Placing the menu back on the table, he began searching for his master, noticing her lengthy absence.

He didn't expect to be greeted with her absence.

It was confusing—and the last thing he needed now was more confusion.

* * *

Othello leaned out of the doorway, looking at her quizzically. “Is everything alright?”

Y/n paused, then laughed lightly, unconvincingly. “It’s nothing,” she said, shaking her head. Her apology was just as flimsy as her laugh: “Sorry for the holdup; I had to wait until Kurapika was distracted”

His smile quirked lopsided, knowing. “There was no need to ditch him, Y/n. I began to worry you'd run into trouble.” 

Y/n scoffed at the suggestion. “Trouble? Othello, I _am_ trouble, thank you very much. And I’m not stupid enough to try to bring him here. He would've asked too many follow-up questions.”

“Undoubtedly,” Othello answered, as his grin grew maddeningly wider and more sly. He backed out of the doorway, making room for her to pass. “Will you please come in?”

The common area of the apartment seemed cozy. Within, the room was messy, littered with ink splatters and crumbled pieces of parchment, all of which were currently occupied with fluid, scratchy handwriting. Finally, it was just the two of them. She was thankful for the opportunity to speak to Othello without anyone intruding on their conversation.

“Come. Feel free to stay here for as long as possible," Othello said, wiping his hands on a small rag and nodding his head towards the table in the far corner. Y/n watched the rag muddy with pigment, and her eyes lingered on the small jars and sets of brushes atop the surface. Parchment had been laid meticulously flat beside it. Shapes had been sketched in, but Y/n couldn’t quite make out what they were. She hid her surprise poorly. She hadn’t taken him for an artist.

“It helps me think,” Othello said, answering her question without needing to be asked. Then, "You may ask your questions now. The unfiltered ones."

Right—the reason she had come. Y/n nodded, "Why do I barely remember anything from before?"

(Was it her imagination? Or did Othello's eyes widen, twinkle when he leaned towards her?)

“Does it cause you any pain,” Othello asked, his brow knit in concentration as he gazed at her, "when you try to recall your past?"

“Not at all,” Y/n replied, watching Othello examine her. His gaze was so academic, so focused. “It's as if everything that could be helpful to my search is gone.”

“Everything?” he asked, favoring her with a brief glance before returning to tidying up the space.

Y/n paused, taken aback by her own slip. “Well, not everything. I managed to find you in York New, after all,” she offered, lamely. 

The curve of his lips was almost a smile. Amused, he answered, “Then we still have some hope to recover your memories. Perhaps, we may be able to learn the cause of their absence.”

"That'd be nice," she said, a little sharply. "because, sometimes, I feel as if some other memories are fading as well. Well, maybe not fade... Perhaps, blur is a better word."

"Oh?"

"Yes, "Oh"," Y/n asserted, firm, her annoyance getting the better of her. Then, begrudgingly, after a moment chewing the inner wall of her mouth, she added, "I'm not terribly worried about it; just curious."

"I'm not terribly worried, either. If what your saying is true, then I wouldn't worry too much about it. The human mind is a fickle thing; sometimes we simply forget. But, to put you at ease... I'll do some research on it."

"...Thank you."

Othello huffed in amusement. “You always struggled with manners as a child,” he responded, “I'm pleased to see that you've grown out of that phase.”

Y/n's eyes widened, seething at his indifference to her gratitude, but sweeping he was, Othello paid her no mind. 

He was still cleaning, busying his hands. Discomfort rose to fill the space that annoyance had left bereft. She kept talking to fill the space with sound—the silence felt terribly tense.

"So... How was I capable of nen at such a young age?"

"..."

"Othello?" His eyes finally met hers.

"... Your father... He had many unorthodox methods to raising a child, you see."

Othello broke her gaze. If he did not look ashamed of himself, he at least seemed chastened. He stared at the floor in silence, a wrinkle in his brow, then sighed; he set his mouth, and met her stare.

"In fact, he was a rather unorthodox _person."_ he told her, quietly.

Y/n stiffened at the mention of her father, memories swarming her as she- **_~~No~~. No. push them down, away. Push them away._**

"... Why didn't you raise me?"

"I practically did."

"Up until the age of six? Othello, that's babysitting, not raising a kid."

"I wanted to."

"... Then why didn't you?"

"Your mother... she thought it'd be wise to send you away."

"For the rest of my life? Why'd you let that happen?!"

"I wasn't aware!" he spoke, sharply, "If I was, I'd have never let it happen!"

"... Did you even try to look for me?"

"Time and time again I tried to find you. You deserved answers, at the very least, even if that was all I could give you. But I was too much a coward.” Disgrace and remorse bowed his shoulders and lowered his head; even now, as he spoke, he could not meet her eyes. “Now that you’re finally here… it is almost a relief.”

_‘A_ **_relief_ ** _.’_

Y/n could hardly believe the words he spoke. _Relief?_ Why should he have any measure of relief, after what she had been put through? She hated him for the brokenness, the penitence in his voice. For years, he had kept himself away from her. He had cared for her, or so he said—so he had told her, while he had cared for her as a child—all the while, laboring under this lie. No, no—now, at the end, he did not get to feel _relieved_ about it. She would not allow it.

Incredibly, unexpectedly, miraculously, she was alive. 

She was alive, and she was angry.

“This is unbelievable,” Y/n hissed through her teeth. She collected her legs beneath her and rose, unsteadily, to her feet; she would not permit him another moment to literally look down upon her. 

Relief! Y/n wished she felt an ounce of relief, to see him here: alive, unharmed, _safe_. But she was too full of fury. Her heart was breaking all over again along fault lines that had never fully mended, and her temper was trying to carry her away from the cataclysm before she fell back into that pit of despair and hopelessness.

“I ran here, you know,” she told him, half-incredulous, as though now that she had managed it, she was not quite sure how she had pulled it off. “I ran away from _my master_. And when I couldn’t bear to live with myself anymore, I persisted, _heaved_ myself to this stupid city with the very last of my strength and then some, just wanting _answers!_ Afraid that I’d never know my past! And you didn't even look for me at all. You looked through a cafe window and then— _poof!—_ just like that, you found me. Be honest, Othello; You never wanted to find me.”

He opened his mouth and Y/n thought to stop him—to cut him off—but she held her breath, waited for whatever excuse or explanation he might give.

He only made matters worse, threw kindling onto the flame of her anger.

He called her, “Y/n—”

No, she did not want to hear it—she would entertain no entreaty that began with her name as if he could pave so neatly over the wrong he had committed, as though it had no bearing on present circumstances.

Y/n huffed in frustration and threw her hands in the air, then ploughed straight onwards: 

“Oh, what a mission you led me on! Through my broken, shattered life. Is that why you did it? So that I would put all the pieces together myself, discover the truth like it was some fucking riddle, and spare you the burden of having to be fully honest with me _?”_ Now that she had begun, the accusations came flooding out of her; she hurled each one at him like a blade. “You risked my safety, you put me in harm’s way as though I was a mere piece on a gameboard to you.”

“Y/n, no,” Othello spoke quite plainly, brusquely. “I would not have left you on your own if I didn’t think you could handle yourself. I would’ve never let you get hurt-“

“How would you have known?!” she demanded, and the shouted words echoed back at her from the large room “And if you could have known—if you have, in fact, in some awful way, been watching the past nine or so years of my life this whole time—measuring how close I was to death—how would you have reached me? You’re a nen user, but you are not a _god_.” She spat the word at him, her voice full of mockery and contempt. “You can't be in two places at once.”

Grief wracked her, but Y/n anchored herself to her outrage, refusing to let her voice wobble. 

“Why didn’t you help me sooner?” 

He could hardly bear to look at her. Now, he turned away from her, his shoulders hunched. “I could not.”

“You could not!” Y/n repeated, vicious with scorn. “You left me in Meteor City! Did you think I would not stay with you willingly—that I needed to be tricked—that I would deny you any help you asked me?”

He locked her in his gaze again, regarding her with quiet confidence and absolute certainty that unnerved her. “Yes. And, you’re mother was the one to leave you in that damned place,” he responded, and his voice left no room for doubt. “If I had taken you in—if you knew the whole truth about your mother—I suspect you would not have offered me your help. You were only a child, after all.”

“Exactly. I was only a child, yet you decided to just let her abandon me?” Y/n goaded, taking a step nearer. “If I had known that my mom needed help, did you really think I would deny it? If—” Her voice cracked, and she closed her eyes, pulling her breath in steadily through her nose until she was sure she could lash out without her voice breaking, “If someone actually tried to raise me... would I have still killed Dad?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately, “Your father was a wicked man. You didn’t know the two of them as I did, Y/n.”

Y/n scoffed. “I bet you could fill an ocean with all the things I don’t know.” 

He laughed, self-deprecating and bitter. “I suppose you may be right.”

His laugh sounded so familiar. It reminded her of herself, of who she had grown to be; it knocked the wind right out of her sails. This was what she had hoped for, wasn’t it? Just to find aid in her quest to find her mother, before she set off for the Hunter Exam? 

And yet, now that it had come to it, as he stood before her now—this man who knew of everything in her past—she felt that she didn’t know him at all.

Now, however, that the full, profound depth of what he had concealed from her had been revealed, Y/n could not help but see everything in her past in a strange, new light. 

“Othello,” she began, anger fleeing her body, “we are going to find her. Me and you; together. And this time... this time we won’t back down.”

“... You’re just like her, you know.” His face remained passive, but his eyes gleamed in pride. “Alright, ask as many questions as you’d like.”

"Any ideas of where she is"

"I... I don't know. I've been trying to track her down for the past five or so years with no luck. It's as if she disappeared into thin air."

"Ha. Of course, you haven't a clue," she huffed, "Alright. So, what is she? A teacher? A doctor? Wait, is she a hunter?"

"Well, she was training to be one. And, the last time I saw her, she had lots of promise. Plenty of potential to succeed in her area of expertise."

"What did she study?"

"...Oh, dear gods... How stupid can I be-"

"Othello, what the fuck are you talking about?!"

"Your mother! She was an explorer, and the last expedition she went on was to research the Kurta Clan! She was so excited about it, I had completely forgotten. Seven hells-"

"..."

"... Y/n, I'm so sorry. I was an idiot; had I remeb-"

"But... The Kurta Clan was dangerous! They could've murdered her! Why did you let her do something so stupid?!"

"What? Y/n-chan, the Kurta were calm people. Rarely did anything notable," Othello's eyebrows furrowed, "They were completely detached from our civilization."

"B-but Chrollo said-"

" _Chrollo_?" His face grew pallid, fists clutched into his slacks. " _Chrollo Lucilfer?_ "

"Yes... Leader of the Phantom Troupe, "Chrollo Lucilfer". That guy. He's after me. So's the rest of his lackeys."

"Y/n... why is the Gen'ei Ryodan after you?"

And so she spun him the story of her past, face impassive as she recalled all the painful memories. Each word that left her lips led to Othello's face turning several shades paler.

"Othello..."

He turned his gaze away from her and back to the floor; his hands clenching into his chest. “Y/n, what you did was incredibly reckless” No shortage of bitterness in his voice when he added, “They're near. There's no way in hell that they aren't.”

Y/n let him speak. Did not interrupt him, though she wanted to. But then he stumbled, loosed his fists so he could brace his weight against the support of the table. Struggling to breathe, his free hand fisted tighter into his tunic, as though he were trying to wrench some heavy thing off of his chest.

“Othello…” she repeated—his name, again, like an incantation—and reached out to him, but then stopped, her hands hovering nervously in the air. He was in such a state, and though she wanted to soothe, she would not do so without permission. Gods knew she was familiar with what it felt like to be caged by her own emotions, captive to her anxiety. “Can I touch you?”

He looked at her as though she had said something bizarre and inappropriate; she pulled a face. “Not like that. Come here, look.” And she took his hand gently in hers, and guided him to the chair at the table. She sat him down on the edge of it. At once, he curled into himself, back bent, shoulders hunched, but “no,” she corrected, gently; she placed a hand on his shoulder, his lower back, and straightened his posture, tried to open up his airways. “Come on, Othello. Breathe. With me, now. Deeper.”

Under her hands, his clothing was damp: the night was freezing, and Othello was sweating.

“You’re alright,” she mumbled gently, softly. “You are safe.” 

It was a practical matter, she reassured herself; she could not have her one source of information having a breakdown when she needed him the most. It had nothing to do with compassion or sympathy. (But still, but still…)

Gradually Othello's breathing slowed, and deepened. Only then did he look at her. And though the worst of his anxiety had abated he did not seem at ease: he looked embarrassed. But now, at least he was not under attack. She asked him, softly, “Are you alright?"

“No,” he admitted. “But I will be.”

Now that he had recovered, Y/n retreated, but as she tried to pull her hands away from his shoulder and back Othello's own reached out and held them there. She did not recoil (she should have, she thought) though her eyes widened in surprise.

"Y/n... If what you're saying is true, you shouldn't stay here for long. They... They _will_ find you," His voice quivered, breaking under the tremendous amount of anxiety. "They'll stop at nothing to succeed."

The moment of panic has receded but in its wake, it had left behind fear. She could feel it in the way he squeezed her hand to reassure himself. The particular, and insidious fear, often a self-fulfilling prophecy: that the panic had not dissipated fully, merely that it was lying in wait, ready to overtake him as soon as she left his side.

A surrender: he squeezed shut his eyes, turned his face away from her. “They attacked the Clan, Y/n. And I would assume that your mother was, in some way, involved.”

“... What?”

Ever so slightly he opened his eyes, though he did not turn in her direction. He looked indecisive, on the verge of something.

"She might be dead."

The realization of what he was saying was sinking like a brick in the pit of her stomach. “But if what you said is true—if Mom really is an amateur hunter—she's got to have enough strength to stay alive! ”

He looked at her with unease, then nodded. “I agree with you. She must have remained single-minded in her ambition to help the Kurta Clan. Such pragmatism is admirable—but perhaps, under the circumstances, unwise."

Y/n's eyes fell to the floor, trying to process everything Othello was telling her. All of a sudden, the stakes seemed so much higher. All this time she had been working with the Phantom Troupe, living alongside them; _Arkot_ was right. He always had been. The Gen'ei Ryodan truly had commit genocide simply for monetary gain- _They took his eyes. They took Arkot's eyes. **Holy fuck-**_

She slipped her hand out of his—he did not restrain her a second time—and her arms fell to her side. Tried not to wring them, though she desperately wanted the distraction.

Othello must have read the distress on her face; his voice softened. "I didn't tell you this to upset you. If I felt that you weren't in danger, I would not have troubled you with it. But you can't know what threats you'll face in the months ahead, and I only want you to be prepared for anything—including resistance from those who led to the disappearance of your mother of the first place.”

Y/n closed her eyes and gulped. The fact that the Troupe had murdered the Kurta was irrefutable. That they had deliberately planned on keeping her close (for what inconceivable purpose, she could not say) was a suspicion that had been growing in her mind, but one that she did not want to acknowledge, hoping against hope that Chrollo just happened to be at the right place, at the right time.

For now, she would keep this to herself. But the pleasure of Kurapika’s company had already lulled her into teaching him the strength needed to avenge his family.

“Thank you for telling me this,” she said, quietly. “Othello... Please help me finish my nen training.” Y/n begged, but as she did she placed her hand, flat and gentle, on Othello's forearm.

"I'd be glad to, Y/n."

It was a small touch, an acknowledgment of her gratitude. But once her hand made contact with his skin, she realized her error; she was not sure if it was the atmosphere of the room that had palpably thickened, or her awareness of the moment, but something changed at the feel of his skin underneath hers. 

Still, he did not flinch, and she did not move away.

"Do... Do you feel that?"

_Knock, knock - -_

Surprise turned Y/n's head, her eyes locked with the door at the opposite end of the room.

_They... They're a nen user... Too powerful._

“You're short on time, Y/n! Leave!"

“O-Othello, who is at the door?”

“It must be the new tenant-“

_Knock, knock - -_

Othello rushed to the window, peering into the street before turning back to her. 

“Yes, out the—do you think you can climb down from here?” He worried his lip, and his look was so desperate. “From the window? You can control the wind, you'll be alright—I’ve done it a few times, it’s not as bad as it looks— You've already climbed up! Climbing down shouldn't be too-” 

_Knock, knock, knock!_

"I thought you said I could stay for as long as I wanted," she said, reaching for her boots, frantically tugging the left one over her knee. 

"No, I said you could stay here for as long as possible," he corrected, his eyes flickering nervously to the door. "But, I'm sorry. You must leave for now. Take my cloak— It's cold out! Call me as soon as you meet up with that blond fellow! It'd be best for you to leave for the exam as soon as possible; perhaps, even now! Return here as soon as it's over!"

With a forceful tug, she slid into her second boot; a moment later she'd shrugged on Othello's mantle, joining him at the window. 

And she… wanted to linger, really. Because even the threat of a strangely powerful nen user catching her was nothing compared to the confusion she felt at being so swiftly kicked out. 

But she was roused from her thoughts by the sound of a soft, girlish voice, laced with politeness.

“Excuse me? Othello-san, are you in there?”

Othello’s eyes shot to her, wide with panic. He mouthed the word more than spoke it, his lips shaping the letters, anguished, desperate:

“Please.”

…so she acquiesced. It wouldn’t have been easy to say no to him when he begged her like that, so desperate to be rid of her. She did not even wish him goodbye before she had propelled her legs out the open window, and began to scale down the side of the building.

But outside, it was quiet: quiet enough that she could hear Othello open the door.

"Apologies, Shizuku-sama! I was changing my clothes. Is there a problem?"

By the time Y/n's feet met the cobblestones, she had to stop for a minute, leaning her back against the siding. She was trembling, she realized. She gritted her teeth and willed her hands to still… but even when they did, the sensation was replaced by the all-too-familiar feeling of stinging in her eyes. 

_No... Not here._

* * *

In the alley ahead, rock music drifted from the windows of some bar. The melody was bright and cheerful, but still, it made her feel wistful because it reminded her of music she’d heard in the streets of the Republic of Padokea during Heavens Arena’s Battle Olympia season. Homesickness swelled within her. What was she doing here? Wandering the city, risking Chrollo's anger and her life, so—what?—she could return “home” with her pride intact? Yes, that was what this was about—stubbornness, and pride. Perhaps that had been at the root of it from the beginning, all of it—her aggressive departure, her insistence on finding her mother—just some willful rebellion against Chrollo’s power over her, which she still resented, although, as far as she knew, Chrollo had never abused it... At least, that's what she thought.

_Arkot... I'm sorry. I should have listened to you. What do I do now? I can't go back to those... Those_ fucking _murders..._

The moon continued to swing across the sky in its arc, and the city quieted, and when the realization came to her; she knew it was true, no matter how much she may have disliked it:

It was not worth losing her life to assert her independence from Chrollo, or to prove a point. Perhaps, she should just return home to him; act like she knew nothing and live in regret and shame.

_Chrollo_.

A part of her had believed he would just… _find_ her, in that miraculous way he had. He was her master in nen, yes, but he was her only companion. His was the face she had seen all most every day, and his was the smile she most cherished. For the last five years, he had been at her side to protect her, support her, teach her. How could Chrollo be so cruel? So unsupportive when she needed him most? So confusing? Surely, Y/n thought, he had some trick, some contrivance. Chrollo would come and take her home.

At that thought, the wind whipped around her in all directions. ' _A welcomed feeling_ ' she bitterly thought. She didn't ask for this. She never wanted to upset Chrollo, but there was no way around it at the end of the day. She never wanted the terrifyingly beautiful ability to bend the winds to her will.

_Arkot...they killed you..._

She had recoiled from the possibility as instinctively as a hand flinches from a hot kettle, but she did not feel she could decisively rule out the possibility. She had no understanding of the Troupe’s total unhinged power, no discernment of the cruelty they were willing to enact. For all she knew, they may very well have been capable of the murder of an innocent child. 

She _knew_ she was being foolish. She _knew_ that her little brother was murdered by those she once held dear; she always had. The nen user just pushed the thought into the deepest crevice that her mind could supply, opting to leave the absurd theory in the dark. How _stupid_ , she had been.

But that thin answer only led to more questions, each more difficult to bear than the one that preceded it: _‘Why did Chrollo teach me nen then? Why did they take me in?’_ And then, with burgeoning panic, she would wonder, _‘Do I have something Chrollo wants? Did he plan on ridding himself of me eventually?’_ And sometimes, less urgently, but just as painful because of how bewildered she still was by the whole episode, she asked herself, ‘ _Why haven’t they found me yet? They’re more than capable of doing so..’_

The buzzing of her phone was a much-needed distraction. 

Her quivering hands clutched her phone tightly, then lifted the device to her gaze, eyes widening as they scanned the single message that graced the cracked glass screen.

_**+81-565-5759-763:** _

_**Y/n-chan. Where are you? Danchou said that you ran away. Perhaps, I should pick you up? Message me as soon as possible.** _

_It must be Paku... Wait, what if Shal tracks my phone? Holy fuck.... They probably know where I am._

She tossed her phone to the side, vivacious movement evident. Her quivering hands found her hair as she desperately grasped at it. She could already feel it coming back--. The blood pounded in her ears, heart thudding in her chest. Her feet tingled, vision disfigured, as if she were looking through a fish-eye lens.

_Crash!_

Turns out that her gales were strong enough to toss dumpsters against walls.

Groaning softly in defeat and disappointment, she let her body fall back against the alley wall, and slid to the ground, crouching, her elbows on her knees, her hands covering her head. She did not like admitting failure, and she was unused to the feeling. When it came to nen, she was mostly adapt in her power—and when she lost control, she beat her head against the wall until she mastered it again. But her drive and ambition were not going to be enough to get her the answers she had come to York New seeking; those assets were barely enough to keep her safe. Though she had a mere fifteen (nearly sixteen) years of life experience in her memory to draw upon, in all that time she could not remember ever feeling so _stupid,_ so embarrassed.

That is until the alley was flooded with fluorescent light, and fear out-crowded her shame.

Not just light: music, too, the trilling lilt of some electric guitar, and laughter. Tobacco smoke and the dizzy scent of alcohol, and cheap stew, drifting through the opened door. Voices.

Two navy flats— _trouble._

“Y/n-san, there you are! Where were you? I was searching for hours” Kurapika's voice huffed, irritation lacing his tone.

Her voice was uncharacteristically stoic, “I ditched you. I’m sorry.”

“.. Just please refrain from doing it again.” he sighed, deeply, “Are you alright?”

"... No," her voice trembled, words spilling from her lips ineloquently. "We're never gonna find her..."

“Um.. There, there, Y/n-san.” Kurapika provided, awkwardly placing his hand on her shoulder. “This is just a minor setback in your- _our_ search."

“A minor setback? I’ve come so _far,_ Kurapika! Farther than even _I_ thought I would! I can’t just come back after the exam!” she hissed, anger choking her. 

“I am aware.” the boy spoke, as calm and rational as ever, “But this could be to your benefit. Being a hunter will ultimately assist you at the end of the day.”

“The Troupe will _definitely_ catch me by then!”

His feet shifted, tensing for a moment. 

“...The Troupe?” The blond’s voice, incredulous, rang out clear through the cold, still air. It seemed as if the sounds of boisterous music quieted at his tone.

“Yep, that’s my big secret! The Spider, The Gen'ei Ryodan, The _motherfucking_ Phantom Troupe! They’re after me and I’m fucking screwed!” she seethed, anger bubbling up in the pits of her stomach. "You still wanna be around me? You still want me to be your nen master? You'll end up like me, Kurapika! You'll end up dead!"

The whole truth finally sat there, naked, cold, and fatal as a patriot's blade as silence emitted from the two of them.

"..."

Maybe that was it. Maybe Kurapika was professional and calm until push came to shove, and now that he’d seen how dangerous involving himself with her could be, he was having second thoughts. She wouldn’t blame him, in fact, she would rather he would leave her alone. Though nen user she was, she was not a mind reader.

“Y/n. Are you a member of the spider?”

“Pft, a-as if. I'd rather die than join them at this point..."

She met his eyes, expecting them to be wide with fear, or perhaps even loathing.

She didn’t expect to be greeted by the same shade of red that haunted her daily for the past five years. 

“You are going to tell me what your relationship with the Phantom Troupe is.”

_What. The. Absolute. Fuck._

”... Yeah, whatever; not like I’ve got anything else to lose.”

* * *

_[ in_ _my dream, i am running, running, chasing—something. through sands the color of guava flesh, through valleys deep, over steep mountains and past wide plains. someone swift just beyond the reach of my almost-there anchor-hand. and between the oddly colored leaves and the vegetation, i can see, i can just barely catch glimpses of... eyes that burnt a bright vermillion. ]_

_[ and for the first time in these lonely, oh so tiresome years, i manage to catch up with those eyes. maybe, just maybe, i'll be able to save their host this time. ]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> othello is the best shakespearean play fight me i dare you-- you'd lose bc i'm a theatre kid
> 
> sorry for the possible grammar mistakes :/ this story currently isn't beta'd
> 
> i feel like this fanfic plot is flying a bit too solo but don’t worry this arc will be pretty short i just want everyone’s favorite mc to have some character depth lmao i feel like lots of kurapika x readers lack a likable or at least somewhat realistic y/n so i wanted to change that. rather than this mc being an add-on character to kurapika's story, she WILL have multiple arcs!! this is her fanfic after all :0
> 
> thank u always for ur readership and lovely comments :D


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